


Fly Trapped In A Jar

by Sharkseye



Series: That's What We're Waiting For Aren't We? [5]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angel Tablet, Angelic Soulbond, Angst, Asphyxiation, Canonical Character Death, Dom/sub, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Alteration, Minor Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Reveals, Rimming, Soul Bond, The Alpha Pack, Trials, Truth Spell Thing, Unhealthy Relationships, Vague descriptions of torture, slight humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 70,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharkseye/pseuds/Sharkseye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Dashboard, Dean and Derek have temporarily settled down with the pack, their only pressing goal to rebuild the Hale house.  But especially after Castiel's declaration that Stiles isn't exactly as human as he once thought, things are not going to be so simple.  To add to all this, the Alpha Pack's in town and they have an unnamed and untrusted ally who's crossed paths with the Winchesters many times before...</p>
<p>*Notes*<br/>The major character death(s) is/are not Dean, Derek, Castiel or Stiles.  Neither is/are the minor character death(s).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When I can work out how it was then I'll tell you

**Author's Note:**

> What's this?? Another story in the Dean/Derek series? Holy crap people, it even has a name, and a ~40 000 word count! Of course this is good news, but there is also good news for people who love bad news. The first ~20 000 words of story are in order, but the whole thing is incomplete and the last ~20 000 are the parts of the second half of the story that are complete but haven't all been connected to the whole of the story yet. I don't know if that made any sense, but I can put it in another way. You have 6-7 days of ~3 000 chapters being consecutively posted, after which if I have not already added the missing parts--which should be finished by the 6-7 day time limit, but just in case--then the story will not have day to day posting. Which would be really sad and all, but since I haven't posted in so long, I decided that I wouldn't wait for the end of writing before releasing this. I haven't cut it up into chapters yet, but I shall get to that eventually.  
> I can't say I'm happy with all the parts in the first ~20 000 words, but I can't say I dislike them, so you'll all just have to figure out which parts I don't like, and if you can't, then I've done a good job. I never like the beginnings of my big stories--except Voice of an Extension, that one was pretty good--but I hope you guys like it. I swear I had more notes I wanted to write before posting this thing, but unfortunately I've forgotten them all and will have to add them as I go.  
> Actually come to think of it, I have a few things I remember to say. The story's main setting is Beacon Hills, and the main POV characters are D/D/C/S. There are very few other settings added, but quite a few other POV's stuck randomly in there. Also time changes. Kay, so you all should remember the ~*~ means POV change and extra space means time change, but there are quite a few moments here where I'm writing two different parts that happen at the same time, and I don't know how to say that. If anyone has ideas, please let me know. And if, at any point in the story, you're confused by what's happening when and how they connect, let me know and I shall try and clear things up for you.  
> Without any further ado--until I remember what said further ado was going to be--here is the story.

A fallen nephilim. Well that explained everything, of _course_ Stiles was a fallen nephilim, Derek totally understood now.  Or how about not at fucking all?

“What’s a fallen nephilim?” Scott was the first one to express the question running through all their heads, and Cas frowned, tilting his head to the side and watching Stiles like he was some sort of unknown threat or unexpected happening. 

Derek really hoped that the angel didn’t see him as a threat, because smiting was just not acceptable when it was happening to one of his closest friends, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Cas.  If it came down to it maybe he could get Dean to stop the angel, guilt trip him or something.

 “I’m not sure.”  Cas answered, prompting a scoff of annoyance from Dean.  Before anyone could complain about it, the angel continued.  “At first I wasn’t certain, but his soul is indeed very old with parts that are newer, as if they’ve grown back in a place that’s missing something.”

Cas trailed off after that and Stiles finally spoke again, “I have a multiaged soul and that makes me half-angel half-human?”

Wait what?  Was that what a fallen nephilim thing was? Half and half angel and human?  ‘Cause admittedly Stiles mother wasn’t there anymore, so she could’ve been an angel?  Then again, he would think that the werewolves would be able to tell if Stiles wasn’t human.  It wasn’t exactly easy to hide something like that especially if you didn’t even know you were supposed to be hiding. 

But Cas shook his head, “That just confirms it, the parts that are missing are what makes you a nephilim.  Nephilim shouldn’t be able to fall, though it appears as though you’ve ripped your grace away and done so.  I only just worked this out, so I haven’t had enough time to really be able to tell.”

“Okay, dude, I’m really not a nephilim, I’m like, 100% human, always have been and I intend to stay that way” Stiles protested, confusion drifting from him in great waves as he flailed his denial

“Hold up, when Anna fell she was born as a human, are you saying that’s what happened with him?”  Dean asked, his confused contentment flinching faintly when he said Anna’s name. 

“Souls take a very long time to grow back from when they’ve been torn apart or scared, and it takes a lot to actually harm them.”  The angel explained, speaking to Dean but still watching Stiles “Anna received a soul like humans do when she was born.  Since Stiles only partially has a new soul, I would assume that this isn’t the first time he’s been born as a human, but instead has been regrowing his own soul across many generations.”

 

~*~

 

Not that that should’ve made sense.  In fact, it really _didn’t_ make sense.  All the nephilim had been terrible abominations and monsters.  The thought that maybe one survived the slaughter of its kind by tearing its grace out and becoming human was beyond unthinkable, and worrisome as others could’ve done the same.  But as Castiel continued to examine Stiles’ soul, he became more and more certain that he was correct.  Castiel hadn’t been directly involved in the nephilim war when Father ordered them to stop the creatures causing constant sinning and destruction, but he had seen nephilim.  Seen the way that their souls and grace fit together and spun about.

Which is why Castiel recognized this not-yet nephilim in a place he never would’ve thought to find one.  Stiles’ soul looked exactly like the human half of a nephilim’s soul, except that it had grown slightly, attempting to fill up the space in which it’s grace usually would’ve gone.  That would’ve taken years, hundreds of rebirths that would place Stiles at the perfect time for having been in the nephilim war. 

“So wait, you’re saying that I’ve been reborn a bunch of different times and am missing half my soul?  That’s a really wide theory” Stiles’ soul roiled with doubt, but Castiel could see that at least some subconscious part of the nephilim recognized and believed the truth of the angel’s words, no matter how much he wished them to be false. 

“Yes” Castiel answered slightly belatedly, still on edge as he watched Stiles’ soul start searching for something not there.  “I can show you the place in your soul where your grace would go?”  He suggested, uncertain as to whether he even wanted to do so.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times but Scott was the one to answer, his voice suspicious.  “You can prove it?”

Irritation sparked through Castiel that the werewolf didn’t believe him, but it was tethered in and forgotten as the angel turned back to Stiles, tilting his head to the side in question.

“Umm, go ahead?”  He squeaked, glancing at a few of his friends as if for support or denial.

Castiel walked over to Stiles, crouching down in front of the nephilim and touching his forehead.  It was a good thing that he wasn’t a full nephilim at the moment or else Castiel’s grace would be pressing to kill him.  Now he merely felt a strange revulsion that insisted Stiles never get his grace back so he wouldn’t have to be killed.  Castiel would, _regret_ his death.

Letting out a soft breath of air, Castiel pushed his own declining grace into Stiles, shivering in revulsion as he guided it up to the parts of the nephilim’s soul which would be attached to grace.  Stiles let out a strangled noise as his soul responded, grabbing at Castiel’s grace and sticking to it in a way reminiscent of an anemone curling around his vessel’s fingers.  Pulling back after that quick entrance and leaning away, Stiles’ eyes glowed white as his soul frantically searched for the grace that had just left him. 

Behind him Isaac let out a sharp sound of surprise and the other werewolves started chattering, asking why, and what now.  It took a few seconds, but eventually the glowing in Stiles’ eyes died down and the nephilim—not nephilim, not fully—the _human_ folded forward, pressing his forehead into his knees and gasping.

Scott brushed by Castiel, putting a hand of Stiles’ shoulder and glaring slightly at the angel as if unsure whether to blame him for his friend’s state or not.  “Is he okay?”

“He will be fine” Castiel replied distractedly, waiting for Stiles to raise his head before continuing.  “Because you are aware of your species you may find that knowledge about certain things and memories may come back.  The most important thing however is that you do not get your grace back.”

“Why?  Wouldn’t it be better to fix him?” Isaac asked, making a face after he spoke and realized how the words had sounded. 

Castiel’s grace rebelled at the thought of basically recreating a nephilim and he had to calm it before speaking.  Wrestling himself into submission that never used to be necessary or so easy.  But ever since he had gotten out of purgatory his grace had not been rejuvenating itself whenever he used it.  Going to heaven had helped slow the loss, but there was so much blood on his hands up there that Castiel couldn’t stand it anymore, choosing instead to stay down on Earth and fix things as Sam had once said angels should.

“The nephilim war happened for a reason, if Stiles should be ‘fixed’, angels will come after him to try and kill him.  We have always been conditioned to destroy any nephilim we’ve found.”  Castiel replied in a clipped tone, rising to move back to his chair.  The tension in the room had risen dramatically at his words and he could tell that the wolves were trying to figure out whether he was a threat to Stiles or not.

“But you rebelled against the other angels, you wouldn’t do that.”  Dean spoke as though pointing something out.

Maybe.  It hadn’t been like nephilim were innocent, perhaps Stiles as a nephilim would be, but perhaps he would not. “I do not kill indiscriminately and there is no reason for me to kill Stiles” Castiel settled on as a reply, knowing he could change his heartbeat to get past the werewolves abilities at hearing lies, but deciding on a hedging answer instead.  It was true anyways.

Hopefully if Stiles ever did become a nephilim he would not need to be killed.  Of course, Castiel thought with a mild frown, that would mean he would need to be protected.  And while _protecting_ a nephilim could be stomached, he doubted he could actively go against his brothers for one.  Of course, Dean would probably want him to, which would inevitably lead to Castiel following his instructions.  Dean always managed to get Castiel to do things he didn’t want to do or was uncertain about.  Rebelling, leaving purgatory, not killing a werewolf who had so intimately harmed his charge, all things Dean had asked of him and he had done. 

Resigned now, Castiel sat back and watched the pack as they asked their questions.  He would have to be responsible for a nephilim. 

 

~*~

 

Exhausted, Stiles ran his hand through his hair, trying to focus.  It had been nearly two weeks since the angel Castiel had told him that he was a nephilim, and Stiles had spent almost the whole time researching how the hell that worked.  Plus it got him out of the physical labor that was currently going on with cleaning up the Hale house—not that he disagreed with what was being done to it, but come on, researching was so much better.  So ya, the pack including Dean was rebuilding the Hale house as some sort of awesome safe house, and Stiles was researching the fact that he had never actually been completely human.

Not that he had found much.  Castiel had been his most helpful source, but most of the time he was too busy helping repairs or acting uneasy to answer questions.  He had however provided his theories, which were actually quite useful.   The most common way an angel could fall would be to tear out their grace, fall, and be reborn as a human.  The basics of what Castiel’s theory was, was that Stiles, a long, long time ago, had been a nephilim with half grace and half soul, and had torn out the grace part.  The tearing out had caused him to be reborn as a human, but instead of getting a soul like all humans did when they were created, he had only had the one half that had been his originally.  It had tried to regrow, but still recognized that it should be attached to more grace and not more soul, something it couldn’t create.  Furthermore, since Stiles’ grace would’ve still existed, when he died he would’ve gone through the whole process of falling again instead of heading up or down to an afterlife.  He would’ve only had a half soul again with the little bit that had regrown, and the cycle repeats itself. 

It all sounded really farfetched and Stiles wouldn’t have believed the angel, had Castiel not shown him that something was missing.  Even now Stiles could feel the empty space if he really concentrated, focused in on his very _being_ that Castiel had made noticeable to him, and found the gaping _lack_ where it felt like there should’ve been something.  It sucked.  A lot.   ‘Cause now he could always feel it, feel this thing missing. 

Not that any of it should’ve even been possible in the first place.  For one, so many sites, books and other supernatural resources called nephilim the children of fallen angels and humans, or even fallen angels themselves.  The Bible—where Castiel had told him to go—was extremely unclear on nephilim, mentioning them in passing and not going into much detail.  Castiel had never actually met or spoken with a nephilim before, and when Stiles suggested calling on one of his siblings to ask, the angel had firmly disagreed, stating that not only were there few to no angels who would still side with him, there were even less who would leave a nephilim alive, even one without grace.  The fact that Stiles was seen as someone with a kill on sight basis to angels was pretty hurtfully depressing, and after whatever Castiel did with his grace, they actually had to hide him. 

Truthfully they were quite screwed if anything malicious—angels, demons—came after them, which basically meant that they _were_ quite screwed.  Not that anything had happened so far, just that it was bound to happen.  ‘Cause come on, Beacon Hills here.  When did something terrible _not_ happen?  It was actually kind of depressing, the fact that any angel who came near him would now want him dead.  At one point Dean had told him that Cas called his brother an abomination for quite a while after they met, so he shouldn’t feel too bad.  Considering that all the angel did in Stiles’ presence was look uneasy, he admitted that the other option was quite a bit worse. 

“Stiles!”  Allison’s voice made Stiles jump and he turned to find her bursting into the room.  Luckily she didn’t looked panicked, just exasperated.  “How did you not hear me?”

“Umm, I wasn’t paying attention?”  Crap, had she been calling him for long? “What’s up?”

“If you’re not in the middle of something, can you come down and help me with designs for the panic room? Also if you bring your laptop we may be able to contact Lydia and ask her for help too.”  Allison said, making a face as she spoke of Lydia.

At one point in his life, Stiles would’ve leapt to defend the strawberry haired wonder, but now they were all really uncertain about her.  Originally her and Jackson had been coming back after university let out, but then life had happened and it looked like she was going to stay out at her fancy math university.   Not that Stiles didn’t still love her—platonic, not even deflecting, he had gotten over her before he started dating Derek—but she wanted to be normal, or as normal as she could, something that the rest of them had kind of left behind dreams of being a long time ago.  Unlike the rest of them she hadn’t gotten into anything supernatural related in university, choosing instead to focus her life on numbers and taking over the world with her amazing intelligence. 

Stiles on the other hand had dove right into all things supernatural.  Learned Greek, Latin, took a partial degree in analyzing related to criminal justice, but mostly to cover up his other classes which ranged from dead languages to cryptozoology to semiotic studies.   Everything and anything that could help him get ahead of all the creatures that wanted to kill him and his friends.  To no surprise, it was _incredibly_ interesting. 

“Sure.  Can we set up by where everyone is working so that we can steal ideas from Cas or Dean if need be?” Stiles asked as he checked his open tabs out of habit and then closes the laptop.

Allison nodded and led the way out of the room, heading downstairs.  The apartment Boyd, Erica, Scott and her had gotten was actually pretty awesome, and although Stiles and Isaac had originally stayed at his dads house, the plan had always been for them to move into the pack apartment.  Dean and Derek stayed at a motel but the whole pack was currently in the process of cleaning the Hale house to fix up and live in.  And to create a panic room inside, which Stiles thought was incredibly awesome.  Basically the room was one big giant room that they could go in and hide from other creatures.  Dean already had a bunch of suggestions for sigils and protectants from a family friend who had one, and had been where the idea came from, but they also had to do something about the pack. ‘Cause, werewolves and a nephilim here. 

“I still think it’s a good idea to use an angel banishing sigil near me just to see what happens” Stiles blurted out as soon as they were out of the apartment and down to get into his jeep—yup, _still_ designated driver. 

“Castiel says that it hurts and he doesn’t think it’ll work on you because you don’t have any grace” Allison replied with the ease of someone who has heard and said the same thing many times.

Stiles mock pouted, letting out a little huff.  He knew the banishing thing probably wouldn’t do anything to him and that Castiel would have to do it or else he’d get banished also, or only.  Which, considering how Castiel’s grace was declining—something Stiles had figured out but most of the other werewolves seemed to be oblivious to, though that could also be because they hadn’t had his grace inside them at one point, not in the fun way—would not be a good thing.  So fine, no angel banishing.  Though that didn’t mean that Stiles couldn’t ask about it.  ‘Cause if he were ever to get his grace back, it would be important to know.  Not that he really wanted to get his grace back, but also not that he didn’t want it.  The whole thing was really iffy.  In the end he just didn’t know enough about nephilim to know if he wanted to turn back into one.  Turning into a werewolf?   Heck no, Stiles was so much more useful to the pack as human.  Rebecoming a nephilim?  Maybe.  Except for the part where Cas would try and kill him. 

“Okay, well what ideas do we have for the panic room so far?” He asked, then went on to list the protective ideas Dean had given him when the hunter suggested the room.  “Salt and concrete lined walls, which we’ll fill with a ring of mountain ash that only lets the pack in, a giant devils trap on the roof, sigils everywhere, a ring of rowan trees and mistletoe growing above the thing.  Did I already mention its underground?” Stiles paused and then decided that that was unimportant as he just had.  “Umm, lots of weapons inside, storable food, living area that can be completely independently sustained.  This is going to take a really long time.  Like, if we worked at it every day, it’s probably going to take half a month.  Or less ‘cause everyone working on it is big and growly or menacing in some way.  Seriously, _why_ are they all menacing?  Not that you’re not also menacing” Stiles rushed to reassure Allison, “Just that they are also menacing.  I think that I should become a nephilim again on the sole reasoning to become menacing.  I could run around like Castiel and stare at people like I can see into their souls.

“Not that Castiel can’t see into people’s souls, after he read my mind, which was terrifying and makes me wish that something like Occlemency was real so that I could practice and put up a defense against people in my head.  People in general, not just Cas,” Stiles continued “’Cause he’s pretty cool and all, just, you know.  Menacing.  Really menacing, with his huge black wings and staring that I already mentioned, and his blue eyes and the fact that he’s a hot angel.  Seriously!  Why are there hot angels?  I know I complained about this before, but now it’s really become a problem.  It’s not good to have so many supernatural things that are hot because then you think about them and Castiel can read your mind and tell and, oh hey, I totally haven’t thought about Cas like that.”  Stiles cut himself off wonderingly. 

He actually _hadn’t_ thought about the angel like that yet.  But holy crap now he’s screwed himself over because he _is_ thinking about Castiel like that.  Dean’s hot enough, and with Derek they’re both just miles over the hotness rating, but add Castiel in… 

“Oh god, Dean has a brother doesn’t he?” Stiles realized, turning to stare at Allison in horror.  She had her eyes closed and looked like she was wondering why she’d ever agreed to get in the car with him, but he ignored it in favor of this terrible path his thoughts had gone down.  “I bet he’s hot too!  Because he needs to follow the rules of good lookingness, and so they’re probably both underwear models.  I think that’s how they’re such good hunters.  They go around distracting people by being gorgeous, and no one sees the dead bodies!”

“Yes, you’ve found out how hunters work, now please look at the road” Allison’s voice was exasperated as if she had no idea what to do with Stiles.

To be fair, few people did.  He had mostly grown out of his ramblings and flailing, but ADHD did not go away overnight, he still took adderall, and he still had long moments of needing to do _something_ , whether it be talking, moving or whatever. 

Stiles debated on continuing his train of thought aloud, but then decided that no, he had already forgiven Allison for stealing Scott from him and trying to kill them all back in high school.  No need to make her suffer more.  He could have epiphanies in silence, however long said silence managed to last. 


	2. Well take what you want from me. You deserve it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... Smutty second half of the chapter and rather fluffy beginning? Ya, I didn't know when I was writing this what would happen either. But don't worry! There is major plot in the next two chapters, so this will go somewhere, I promise. Oh, and one thing I totally forgot to mention first chapter was that after this I'm probably going to write a Stestiel story. It won't be in this this world, and it really doesn't have much to do with this, but I just really wanted to say it so that I can guilt trip myself into actually writing the thing.   
> Anywho, second chapter, and many thanks for the comments and kudos!

Dean _could_ stop himself from laughing as Scott and Isaac argued over whether a piece of wall could be saved or whether they should just knock it down and build a new one.  He _couldn’t_ however, stop Derek from feeling his amusement, and his mate rolled his eyes, a smile twitching at the edge of his mouth as he shouldered past Dean, ordering him to go and work with Erica instead of making fun of his pack.  Complying as Derek went to exercise veto power, Dean joined the Beta in tearing down a piece of wall that had only half survived the fire. 

They were going through and taking down everything that needed to be taken down before starting repairs, and were almost finished the destruction part.  This would actually be the last day before they could start getting rid of everything and then start ordering lumber.  Through the whole thing a layer of sadness clung to Derek, so Dean was sending over a feeling of belonging and love, trying to keep his mate from sinking too far into silence over the destruction of his old home.  Dean knew him to speak and interact a fair bit, only a little less than other people, but his pack had commented on how he used to be a ‘brooding sourwolf who spent his days creeping around and drinking the tears of his enemies’.  Stiles’ words, of course.  Anyways, he didn’t want him to fall back on that and retract from the world while his pack was happy and they were all together.

“I’m so glad Derek didn’t hire people to take this down” Erica commented, taking another gleeful swing at the wall with her sledgehammer.  “This is so much more fun”

Dean laughed, pulling at the part she had torn free and chucking it over the edge of the second story they were on. “I think the only reason he didn’t was because of Scott’s puppy eyes when he heard that we weren’t destroying anything.”

He almost mentioned that’d you’d have to be soulless _not_ to fall for Scott’s puppy dog eyes that rivaled Sam’s, but the whole soullessness was still a sore point.  Some things you just didn’t talk about when you had lived for a year with a brother missing his soul. 

“Sad sappy sucker.” Erica commented with a devilish grin.  Dean merely shook his head fondly in reply and Erica changed the subject.  “This’ going to be loads better than the apartment and that train car we used to live in.”

“The pack used to live in a train car?” Dean asked incredulously, pausing in his work for a second. 

“Old abandoned train station.  We trained and lived there occasionally.” Erica replied, her nose scrunching up in disgust and then smoothing out as she smiled, happy this time.  “But this is going to be great, I’m going to paint the walls in my room in shades of cherry red with orange cream accents, and cover it in paintings and have a huge closet.  Plus, I’m going to warn you now, if Derek doesn’t agree to have his room something other than a monochromatic scale of black, I’m going to use you to get him to change his mind.”

“Blackmail?  That’s low.” Dean protested, mock gasping “And besides, you don’t know _that_ much about me”

“Nope, you two are so close that I doubt there’s anything you do that the other doesn’t know about.” She denied, scowling at a particularly stubborn beam that didn’t seem to want to break. 

Dean paused at the casually thrown out truth.  Yes, he knew almost everything his Alpha had done in the past few months, but where his past was concerned Dean only new random parts and larger ideas.  They had gone from not knowing the other existed past what Derek knew about the name Winchester to knowing practically everything the other did.  They had their fights, but nothing that would be expected of two mostly unfamiliar people in such close quarters, or any of the huge fights that him and Sam got into when they really fought.  Nothing that would belay the fact that they were a hunter and werewolf living together.

“Even so, you’re either getting him to agree to a reasonable color scheme, or you’re coming shopping at Ikea with me and Allison.” Erica’s tone was even as if she wasn’t threatening the tremendous atrocity that was _shopping_ , but suggesting something nice and pleasant. 

“He’s the Alpha, why can’t you threaten him over colors?” Dean huffed, using one of the many hatchets they had brought up to weaken the base of another piece of wall so that they could push it over.

“Because you’re the woman in the relationship, and more likely to come up with sensible ideas.” Erica laughed at the way his swing went wide in shock, uselessly imbedding itself in the wall instead of the support.

“Seriously, what the hell?” Dean gasped, “Why do people always assume that?”

A touch at the back of his neck made Dean flinch away and he realized Erica had patted Derek’s bite, on full display as he wasn’t wearing a shirt.  He frowned.  It wasn’t like he was ashamed of the scars his mate had given him, but he thought the assumptions were unfair, if not also completely true. 

“Not to mention the other scars that Derek left, he totally tops.” The smirk that she gave him when his hand instantly went to the half hidden triskellion on his hip was just mean. 

Interrupting her before she could go any further, Dean removed his hand and pointed at her fiercely.  “I’ll talk to Derek about the colors, but I’ll warn you that Sam’s the only girl in my family.  And just ‘cause he tops that doesn’t make me the girl”

Erica narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his relatively easy acquiesce and Dean grinned innocently, saying, “We can probably push this wall down now.”

She’d totally regret asking for his help once she figured out that he didn’t know a single thing about home decorating, but that’s what she got for talking about Derek’s marks so mockingly and where their Alpha wasn’t around to gloat about it.

To distract her from realizing this and although he didn’t really care—note previous, sucking at home decorating—Dean asked, “Have you got any designs for the rooms done?”

“Heck yes” Erica answered, suspicion forgotten in favor of going on about a sketchbook her, Allison, Derek, and Isaac had been passing around.  “Derek’s giving ideas for most of the general looks of the rooms ‘cause it’s his house and all, Isaac’s helping design it to make sense architecturally with the additions that differ from Derek’s original house, and then me and Allison are deciding what’s inside each room.  Of course everyone will design their own bedrooms and any attaching rooms, but we’re doing the common areas, kitchen, library, hallways, living rooms, etc.  Stiles and Allison are doing most of the work on the panic room, but I think Castiel’s also helping and they’ll probably rope you into it too.”

Dean nodded, considering it for a second.  “I may go out to Bobby’s house and grab some stuff from there, just to help out with the library and panic room.  I’d have to talk to Garth first though.” He trailed off, wondering if he should take some of the Beta’s with him. 

They’d be able to see what a panic room was supposed to look like, but at the same time, it was _Bobby’s_ house, and he wasn’t sure it’d be a good idea to bring them.  Sentimental value or whatever, it just felt like a big thing.  Plus Garth still used it as evidence by the fact they had run into each other when he brought Derek, so who knew what other hunters came around?

Almost like she was reading his mind, Erica suggested, “A few of us could come with you, it’d be neat to see and be able to pick up some ideas”

Dean made a noncommittal noise and luckily she dropped that thought for the moment, moving on to talk more about their ideas and designs for the rooms.  Sam would’ve loved to hear some of these, he thought distantly as he listened.  Dean’s brother had always been the research freak, and he probably would be able to get over the whole werewolf pack thing soon enough to work with them.  He’d had friendly interaction with supernatural creatures in the past, and they might even be able to help him accept Derek, so long as he never found out exactly what had transpired between Dean and his Alpha during their mating.    

“I think we can fix this wall” Erica commented as they moved on to the next piece, the Beta stopping before going at it

Tilting his head, Dean considered it.  The drywall would have to be replaced, but ya, they could fix it.  Once everything was cleaned up, of course, but it could be done.  Glancing around, Dean let a small grin bloom on his face.  This house may not be much to look at now, gutted and scorched as it was, but they’d make it work, build it again.  They’d probably end up staying, and maybe someday it could even become a home. 

 

~*~

 

After finishing up with knocking down the last of the walls the rest of the pack had left, but Derek and Dean had hung back for a while and were now sitting on the hood of the impala, staring up at the half taken down house.  Derek estimated that it would only take a day to rent a dumpster and get rid of all the scraps, then they could start work on rebuilding.

Leaning against Dean, the Alpha let his head tip to rest on his mate’s shoulder, staring at the remains of his old home.  It was freaking amazing how much difference it made now that almost everything on the second floor was knocked down and pushed into a pile on the ground, the first floor emptied and everything unsalvageable joining the scraps.  Derek had gone through the house already quite a few times trying to find last memories of his family, but even so they had found two cardboard boxes full of things that were now sitting in the back of the impala.  He hadn’t yet gone through much of it, knowing it’d make him vulnerable and wanting to wait until he was alone.  Even though Dean had been through family trauma as well, that felt like something he wanted to do by himself, and run back to Dean after.

“Let’s go back to the motel.” Derek suggested finally, nuzzling into his mates’ neck and closing his eyes as he scented Dean, loving the fact that he had yet to put his shirt back on and so the Alpha had full access to skin.

Dean didn’t reply, merely kissing the top of Derek’s head and then pulling away to grab his jacket and slide behind the wheel.  Thankful for the silence, Derek spent one more moment staring up at the partially torn down ruins of his house before following, buckling himself in and enjoying the sound of the impala’s motor.  It wasn’t the same as the Camaro which had been Laura’s car, but over the months of knowing it the noise had become almost as comforting.

Pulling through town and towards the seedy motel they were _still_ staying at—though as soon as the cleanup was finished they were moving into his house, half-wrecked or not—he sat and watched Dean, admiring the planes of his hunter’s face.  The best way to get his mind off sorrowful things like his deceased family was to think about the new family he had, small and spread out though they may be.

They didn’t speak as they parked and entered the motel room, Dean shucking his jacket off onto a chair and moving to go over and get some of their leftovers.  Not feeling too hungry and having wanted to do so for a while since having his mate shirtless all day and displaying Derek’s many marks of possession, the Alpha wandered up behind Dean, wrapping his arms around his hunter’s waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“Derek?” Dean asked, instinctively relaxing back into the Alpha.

Turning slightly and nipping on Dean’s ear, he replied in a whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

Surprise flooded through the bond and Derek grinned happily, loosening his grip enough to let Dean turn around.  Derek had fucked Dean a lot, in almost every position physically possible, but the reversal had never happened. 

“Really?” Dean inquired, sounding like a child presented with candy.

Dean hadn’t needed to tell him that the hunter used to prefer woman and was more commonly the top if he slept with a man, he had figured it out and felt slightly guilty about having taken that from him.  He had few to no hang ups about being bottom, they had just fallen into a pattern that he was the one to claim Dean.  Back right after his house burned down and when Derek had still been in New York he had fucked and been fucked by practically any man he could find, still wounded after the whole thing with Kate and just wanting to forget.  This would be the first time he bottomed since then, and he didn’t even try and stop his own excitement that rose to meet Dean’s.

“Really.” He confirmed, lazily licking a line up Dean’s neck and gently biting down on his jaw. 

“Fuck yes.” Dean muttered, walking backwards towards the bed and dragging Derek with him.

Guilt filled Derek about not having let Dean do this before, but he was also full with too much anticipation to really focus on it.  You could keep control even when being the bottom.  That, really, was Derek’s only issue.  He hated giving up control because Kate had always demanded it but thinking about it now, even with what Dean had been through he was fine with submitting to Derek.  Derek could do the same.

Pushing Dean down onto the bed, he ground down into his mate, stripping his shirt off with Dean following suit.  Dean was the one to roll them over and Derek gasped in surprise as his hunter moved down to bite at a nipple, lavishing attention on his chest.  Nimble fingers worked at his jeans and he reached over to the bedside table where they had left the lube, almost knocking it off when Dean wrapped a talented hand around his cock. 

“Here” He hissed, lifting his hips so Dean could pull his jeans down the rest of the way and using his feet to indicate he wanted his mate to take off his own clothes.

When wet heat descended on Derek’s cock all thoughts of clothing were lost, but he noticed when a lubed up finger circled his rim, pressing in and sliding easily.  The second finger was a little stranger, but focusing on the amazing blowjob he was currently getting, Derek didn’t care.  When Dean found his sweet spot, he cared even less.  His hunter took what felt like hours and was probably only minutes preparing him, until the only thing Derek could focus on was the feeling of warm fingers against his prostrate and sucking pressure on his cock.

Dean kept on slowing down when Derek was too close to coming and finally the Alpha pushed him back so that he could flip over, positioning himself on his hands and knees and staring back at his mate with pleasure glazed eyes.  “Come _on_ ” He demanded, spreading his legs.

Laughing, Dean cheekily took a swipe at Derek’s backside, commenting, “And I’m the slutty one?”

Derek snarled in reply, but before his pleasure addled mind could come up with any answer that made sense and wasn’t completely childish, Dean was positioning himself and pressing in, bottoming out inside Derek in one hard thrust.  The Alpha let out a low groan of agreement and pressed back, realizing just how fucking much he had missed out on by never letting Dean take control.  Damn omnipresent Alpha dominance instincts and fucked up mentality due to Kate, this was _awesome_.  Dean set up a quick pace, Derek pushing back to meet each of his thrusts and snarling as rips and tears appeared in the mattress beneath him.  Cheap motel sheets, couldn’t even stand up to an Alpha’s claws.

Again when he was about to come Dean reached around and grabbed his cock at the base, cutting him off with a tight ring of his fingers, denying him what he had needed for a long time now.  The hunter laughed at Derek’s whining protest and he felt Dean’s teeth sink hard into the Alpha’s neck, breaking the skin in places.  The feeling of warmth bursting inside of him alerted him to Dean coming, along with tightening of grip that would’ve left bruises in anyone human.

Gasping, he reached down to remove Dean’s hand and jack himself off, but he was slapped away, a low warning note accompanying the denial.  

“What the hell?” Derek complained, forcing himself to comply rather than use his superior strength to subdue Dean.

Another low chuckle came in reply, but before he could protest further Dean was pulling out and spreading Derek’s cheeks.  Then there was the feeling of wet lapping at his hole as Dean put his mouth where his dick had just been, sparks of pleasure bursting through the werewolf.  Derek groaned at the feeling of being rimmed and pressed his ass back into Dean’s face as the hunter’s tongue delved inside him, going so deep that it felt like he was searching out a way to burrow inside the Alpha.  An amazing change in the pressure alerted Derek to the fact that Dean was eating him out now, sucking his own come out of Derek. 

“Holy shit” He breathed, moaning at how fucking hot that was and torn between bucking forward in the hope of getting friction or pushing back to get more of that tongue.  Apparently he had done really well in training Dean to clean up after himself. 

Dean continued the torture by pleasure for a while until he seemed to be satisfied and pulled back, biting Derek harshly on the inside of his thigh before rolling him over.  Clenching his fists and tearing at the sheets, Derek bared his teeth at Dean, opening his legs again in a wordless demand.  One that was quickly answered as Dean pulled his still tightly held fingers up, jacking Derek off as he bit at his jaw in an echo of what the Alpha had done before. 

With all that Dean had already done, it didn’t take much before Derek was coming, coating both of them with his release.  Panting, he fell back, Dean rolling onto his side next to him and mouthing at his collarbone. 

“I really fucking love you.”  He announced to his hunter, wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulders. 

Almost incoherent joy flooded back to him through the bond in response and he grinned, just lying there and breathing.  The whole rimming thing didn’t mean Dean would get out of cleaning Derek and himself off, just that the Alpha was too tired to fill his mate’s mouth at the moment, so it’d have to wait a bit.  Because seriously?  This had been really incredibly perfect.

So of course that was exactly when Castiel decided to show up.  Not that Derek had anything against Castiel, the angel was pretty great and all, it was just, really?  Now? Dean cursed and moved as if to cover himself, but Derek held tight, furrowing his eyebrows and attempting to convey disapproval to both of them.  Showing up in an amazing afterglow and trying to move away from said amazing afterglow?  Those things just didn’t fly.  And this _still_ didn’t mean Dean was getting out of cleaning, so Cas had better be okay with watching his charge be defiled. 


	3. And it's not like there was warning, we were happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TIME NOTES) The first part of this chapter takes place during the second part of the last chapter, converging at the point (x,y), wait, no, not math, they converge when Cas appears in the motel room. Also, at the time change part in this chapter it isn't actually a time change, just a real sudden place change. The video you can watch to help with that is at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fxa-TFkVlBI

“If you were to become a nephilim again I believe that a banishing sigil would be extremely dangerous to you because it wouldn’t affect your soul the same way it would affect your grace.” Castiel said after a moment of thinking over Stiles’ question.  “It could potentially tear you apart.”

It actually was a good question, hypothetical or not.  The nephilim just wanted to know whether or not he would be affected by a banishing sigil meant for angels. Unfortunately Castiel didn’t know if there was one meant solely for nephilim because angels had never wanted to drive the creatures away, just kill them.  Since Castiel was Stiles’ main source of knowledge in regards to what he was, the nephilim had taken to dragging him back to his room after days end and interrogating him.  Not that their conversations only revolved around angelic matters, often times Stiles would become sidetracked with some touch of pop culture that Castiel was missing and they’d end up watching a movie or TV series, then Stiles would fall asleep and Castiel would put him to bed..  Some of the pack that Stiles lived with commented on how their chatter was annoying at 2 am, but Castiel found he didn’t exactly mind being kept up.  His grace was failing, but not at such a rate that he needed to sleep every night.

“Okay, so do you think I could fly?  Like, do that disappearing thing that you do, I assume that’s flying.” Stiles asked, making waving gestures that Castiel took to mean the displacement of air whenever he flew.

“I doubt you’ll be able to fly long distances or very often, due to lack of use of your wings, but you should be able to.” The angel responded, remembering how the nephilim used to fight.  “Nephilim used to fly, so I believe it would be much the same.”

“Awesome!” Stiles made something Castiel was led to believe was called a fist pump, and then he leaned forward, pinning the angel with excited eyes.  “So if I was ever banished and stared to be torn apart, which really sucks, ‘cause I’m perfectly fine _not_ being torn apart, I could just fly with the flow?  That sounds funny.  Umm, fly with the wind, go with the flow.  Where do angels even go when they’re banished anyways?”

Narrowing his eyes, Castiel also leaned forward, tilting his head to the side, “Are you intending on finding your grace and becoming a nephilim again?”

For a second Stiles looked surprised, his mouth gaping open like he wasn’t sure what to say.  Then he burst into words, jerking backwards.  “No!  Definitely not, then you’d have to kill me, and that would really suck, and I’d be all unhappy and dead and everything.  I mean, it’d totally be cool, but I’d rather be human and alive than nephilim and dead.  Plus Derek would be upset with you if you killed me, and Dean might also be upset, but either way I think my death would put a block in their relationship and I don’t think y-”

“I’m not going to kill you.” Castiel interrupted, frowning slightly.  Yes, reality and words were much different, but he had no desire past what Stiles was to see him dead.

“Well ya, not _now_.” Stiles said after a moment of pausing, “But if I become a nephilim again you might-”

 

One second Castiel was with Stiles about to reassure him that he still wouldn’t kill him were he to become a nephilim, and the next he was in the middle of a bright white room.  Turning, he noticed a desk that an angel was sitting at, stiff and inhuman in a woman vessel who looked like an important office worker.

“Hello Castiel.” The angel said, her voice smooth and completely unemotional.

Blinking and looking around, he asked, “Where am I?”

“You don’t know?” The angel sounded surprised, but Castiel had spent enough time with the Winchesters to know that it was fake.  “You’re home, Castiel.”

“Heaven?” Instantly he froze, hoping against anything that he was wrong.  He may not have told Dean the extent of the damage he had done here, but he had no desire to ever return.  He had decimated heaven.  Then again, this place looked wrong, clean. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Not many have.” The angel replied gravely, that smile still pasted across her face.  “My name is Naomi.  You’ve been avoiding coming back home.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, not bothering to reply.  What could she want?  Did she know about Stiles?  Quickly he banished all thoughts of the nephilim from his mind.  Another thing he hadn’t really told Dean was the grace decline that had been happening ever since he left purgatory.  He almost wanted to speak with the angel who had given Dean the way to get through the corridors to see if she knew why, but he didn’t want Dean to know, nor did he have any desire to meet the angel of death.  However here that decline in grace meant that he may not be able to stop her from going through his mind and finding out about Stiles, something he couldn’t allow to happen.  He had found the nephilim, therefore Stiles was his responsibility and needed to be protected.

“You remember the demon tablet.” Naomi stated suddenly, evidently noticing that Castiel was not going to reply.  When the angel continued to say nothing, her smile became a touch more irritated.  “The demons have found another tablet for angels.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise.  The demon tablet had been all about the hell creatures, how to kill them, their origin, rituals on them, a tablet that was written on angels would be a very bad thing indeed.  “Have they translated it?”

“Parts.” She replied, linking her fingers together on her desk and leaning forward.  “Now they are looking for ritual requirements with an intent that I have no doubt would be bad for heaven.  So you will make sure the Winchesters gain word of the demons and get involved.”

“No.” Castiel denied instantly, refusing to do anything that would get Dean involved with demons, especially now that he had Derek and the pack.  Sam had his life and Dean had his, Castiel agreed that it was bad for the demons to have an angel tablet, but he would not get his friends involved.

“You will help the Winchesters, come when they call.  You will report in to me regularly and you will never remember having done so.” Naomi went on as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I won’t do that” Glaring, he again rejected her command.  He would not spy on his friends for anyone, he had done that once for himself and learned his lesson.

Her smile merely widened and she dismissed him, “Now.  As you were.”

 

And then he was back with Stiles, the nephilim continuing, “-have to do so.  Don’t worry, I completely get it, even though it really sucks and I hope you don’t kill me and I won’t become a nephilim again.  Being human’s great, really.  Promise, no nephilim becoming.”

Briefly Castiel was confused as if there had been a jump in the conversation, but then he shook his head.  “I won’t kill you even if you become a nephilim.”

“Oh.  Well, that’s good to know.” Stiles blurted out after a few seconds of contemplation.

From there he seemed to calm down and relax, and went off on a tangent that jumped around from what he had found on nephilim to irritation over faulty internet to his precious laptop. It was slightly disconcerting to realize just how tense the nephilim had been on previous occasions without Castiel noticing and he wondered if any outside influences had triggered Stiles’ sudden foray into asking him not to kill him.  Still, Castiel listened intently, sometimes adding his own commentary but mostly just focusing on the words.  While some of it he recognized, the excursions into pop culture often confused him and Stiles ended up bemoaning the fact that he had yet to watch Lord of The Rings.  This led to the nephilim pulling out his laptop and setting it up to watch the first in the series.  Castiel had never encountered any of the species shown throughout the movie, but knew that often in certain human books they made up their own creatures.  Though he found the movie interesting, Stiles fell asleep around the time when the man of Gondor died while trying to protect the hobbits from orcs. 

When the movie had finally ended with a scene of Frodo and Sam descending mountains on their way towards Mordor, Castiel continued what had become their nightly routine by shutting the laptop’s screen and picking up and depositing Stiles onto his bed.  Turning off the lights, the angel stood for a few seconds and wondered what to do next.  Dean had always said it was creepy when Castiel watched over him while sleeping, but he decided to continue to do so until he could figure out what he should do.  _Something_ felt off, though he couldn’t immediately tell what.  If he was understanding it correctly, than a human in this situation would say that it felt like there was a threat lurking over the horizon.  There, but just out of sight.

Deciding to follow this train of thought, Castiel took flight, checking on his friends.  Stiles had already proved to be fine and the rest of the pack sleeping in the apartment were also undisturbed, Derek and Dean were together and unworried, and Sam was sleeping beside the woman he was in a relationship with.  Everyone seemed well on that account, so Castiel decided to just look around, flying about Beacon Hills and seeing if there was anything abnormal.

When he appeared deep inside the warehouse district in Beacon Hills to find five heartbeats mulling around, he was proven right in his worry.  Even more so upon actually entering the warehouse the heartbeats were in and seeing four Alphas sleeping and a fifth on watch.

He crept closer in order to see them more clearly, slipping out of the visible dimension so that he himself couldn’t be seen.  It was only once he had gotten within hearing range and the one on watch sat up stiffly that he realized he had forgotten to hide both his heartbeat and scent.  Werewolves, not humans.

Two of the sleeping one started to shift about and Castiel flew, reappearing in a small park on a bench that he had admitted weakness to Dean on so long ago.  He didn’t know why it was a safe place, but it was the automatic area he went to when threatened and needing to run.  There was no doubt about it, Castiel would not be able to kill five Alphas.  Even when he had saved Derek from the rouge pack he had been weakening, and the display of grace used to take them out left him needing for a time before he returned.  Five Alphas, a _pack_ of Alphas, would be too much.  Dean needed to know about this.

Taking flight again and ignoring the slight ache in his wings from overuse, Castiel appeared in the motel room Dean was sharing with Derek, finding the two naked and cuddled together on the bed.

“There is a pack of Alphas living in Beacon Hills.”  He announced to the both of them as soon as he arrived

Dean cursed and jerked, but the werewolf kept a tight grip on him, refusing to move to let him cover himself up, possessiveness practically radiating from him as Dean blushed.  Castiel had never understood the hunter’s dislike of being naked while he was around, but then again he didn’t have the same social distances and reservations in place around his vessel that humans did.  Firsthand knowledge of what the couple did together wasn’t so shocking when Castiel could see its results in scent and marks all the time.

“Where?” Derek asked, looking perfectly comfortable to be naked in the angel’s presence.

“In the warehouse district.” Castiel replied promptly. 

This was Derek’s territory no matter how long him and his pack had been gone, and other packs shouldn’t be in it, especially Alpha packs.  More so, the pack was back now and building up a place that the angel actually thought they’d stay.  Dean had always loved the idea of a home, and one he helped build like he was doing with Derek’s house would have even more attachment.  So no, Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up staying in Beacon Hills.  Which was even more reason to get rid of this Alpha pack as soon as possible.

 

~*~

 

“I felt that something was wrong and so went around to check.” Cas continued, “There are five of them.”

In his head Dean cursed Cas for how nonchalant he was being.  It was extremely obvious what him and Derek had just finished doing, the Alpha’s come was still wet on Dean’s torso for fucks sake.  Why couldn’t this wait?  Actually no, it made sense for a pack of Alphas to be serious business.  Derek was the problem, not letting Dean clean up or even pull the covers over them.  Fucking exhibitionist mates.  Not that Dean didn’t have a streak of that himself, it was just that this was _Cas_. 

“Did they notice you?” He asked as Derek propped himself up and started trailing fingers over the hunter’s chest. 

“Yes, although they didn’t see me and I doubt they know what angels are.” Cas replied, his voice slightly reassuring.

“Shit” Derek swore softly, biting his lip and barely paying attention as he raised his hand to Dean’s lips. “I doubt a pack of Alphas is here for entertainment, can you do anything about them?”

While Derek’s concentration was on the conversation, Dean couldn’t get past the fact that his mate had continued with tradition of feeding him come even though Cas was in the same room, barely four meters away and talking about the threat of another pack.  He wanted to burst in and ask just what the fuck was happening, but it was as if he wasn’t even in the same room as Cas and Derek talked.

“I can’t.” Cas said, frowning and glancing down as if to build himself up to saying something. 

Dean went to ask, but his Alpha took the opportunity to shove his fingers into the hunter’s mouth, blocking off any words.  Caving only because he knew Derek wouldn’t let him get out of this, Dean closed his lips around his mate’s fingers, trying not to feel humiliated as Cas raised his eyes again and watched them.  Sex flushed, hazy and sucking Derek’s come off his fingers like he needed it to live, Dean could imagine exactly what he looked like and it was giving him a response that was completely contradictory to what the situation warranted, and far too soon afterwards.  Even the fact that the angel didn’t look phased or like he cared what Dean was doing didn’t stop the hunter from blushing and closing his eyes to try and escape being seen.  The worst part of it was that he was the only one he cared, both of the others in the room more focused on conversation and were acting completely on habit, Derek dominating him and Cas intently watching in that way of his.

“My grace has been declining since going to purgatory, I’m not able to kill so many Alphas.” Cas admitted and concern shot through Dean.

Thankfully Derek removed his fingers and he got the chance to speak, “How bad is it?  Are you going to become human?”

“At some point yes, though it isn’t as bad as Van Nuys.” Cas said, tilting his head and biting his lip. “Yet.”

Van Nuys had been when Cas carved a banishing sigil into his own chest and activated it, banishing himself and a few enemy angels and losing all of his grace.  He had become completely human.  After getting him out of purgatory and when Cas had been changing clothes Dean had noticed that he actually had a scar from it.

“So are you going to need to eat and sleep and everything?” Dean asked, remembering the many human things Cas had needed to pick up.

Derek started to rub his remaining come into Dean’s skin and the hunter fought to ignore it, definitely ignoring the way he pressed into the touch.

“No, it isn’t that bad, just declined enough that I can’t take out that many Alpha’s.” Cas sounded slightly disgruntled and Dean remembered how the angel had at one point during his stint as a human revealed some of his concerns on how useless he felt without his grace.

“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Derek asked with concern, proving in addition to the feelings coming through the bond that he was paying more attention to Cas than Dean.

Cas looked thoughtful for a moment, but ended up shaking his head.  “No.”

“You’re lying.”  Derek pointed out, his eyes narrowing.

The angel mirrored his change in expression except with anger instead of confusion and Derek pressed Dean slightly behind him and bared his throat, the instinctive reaction to Cas’ authority surprising Dean.  Then again Cas _had_ made sure that Derek knew his place since the beginning of them knowing each other, though Dean was pleased that they otherwise appeared to get along.  The submission seemed to appease Cas and Dean remotely wondered how he had gotten so caught up in power ranks that such a thing was only surprising and not weird or freaky.  Barely surprising at that.

“There is nothing either of you can do.” Cas shook his head, ending that part of the conversation. 

He paused and frowned at Dean, looking out of place suddenly as if he had just realized that he was watching an Alpha werewolf smear his own come into the face of the human Cas had pulled from hell.  Of course that was a long shot, he had probably remember he needed to go off and creepily watch someone sleep or something.  Actually realizing the awkwardness of the moment they were currently in was far too optimistic.

“It’s unlikely they will do anything soon, they appeared to be just planning when I found them.” Cas concluded, evidently having figured out how late it was.  “I’ll see if I can find anything else out about them, and inform you in the morning.”

Before either of them could reply he was gone, flying off to somewhere or other.  Dean blinked, then turned and glared at Derek, uncertain whether he wanted to breach the topic of an Alpha pack in Beacon Hills, or the whole possessive thing. 

“If they haven’t tried anything yet, maybe they’ll want to talk to you first?” Dean suggested, deciding on that topic.  It was an unlikely suggestion and Derek knew it just as well as he.  A pack of Alpha’s coming unnoticed and unannounced wasn’t exactly the best basis for a good thing.  Plus there was the whole ‘pack of Alphas’, and not sunshine and kittens.

His mate scoffed aloud his agreement with Dean’s thoughts, then settled back into the bed, dragging the hunter down so Derek could rest his head on his bare chest.  He was quiet when he continued. “I’m going to have to tell the pack.”

Dean frowned, having assumed that Derek would tell them straight off and not have any hesitations.  “Why wouldn’t you?”

“They’re barely older than teenagers, first years in university.  This shouldn’t be their lives.” Derek replied just as softly as before, an air of sadness around him.

The tone the words were said in served to remind Dean of also how much younger _Derek_ was.  23 when he became an Alpha and now still only 26, years younger than Dean himself.  Since Dean’s life had been fucked up since he was four, he often forgot how it wasn’t the same for everyone else previously involved in hunting and the supernatural.  Others could actually be normal, like the pack with their added fangs and fur, and Sam with all of his memories and scars. 

This Alpha pack thing only wasn’t freaking Dean out because he’d been up against so many big bad’s that he’d learned to compartmentalize and think it over.  After a guy went up against an insane Cas, the head of the monsters Purgatory was freaking created for, the mother of monsters, and Lucifer himself, things just kinda happened without panic.  Not without dying however, Dean, Sam and Cas had just gotten lucky—or as Cas thought, punished—enough that they were constantly resurrected when things went downstairs or supernova.  If—God forbid—Derek died from this, then Dean was just going to spend the rest of his life researching until he found a way to get into purgatory and bring his Alpha ass back.  Everything to its place of importance.

“It’s better for them to find out from you than to be attacked without being prepared.”  The soft truth fell a bit stilted from Dean’s lips.  Why the hell did an Alpha pack have to come here, now of any time.  If they had come when the pack wasn’t there, might they have just passed through?  That was probably reaching.

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” His Alpha sighed, eyelashes brushing Dean’s skin as he closed his eyes, though little calm came across the bond.

Pressing a kiss to the top of Derek’s head, Dean let out a noise of agreement and mirrored the action, wondering how they were supposed to sleep so soon after finding out about another threat.

Nevertheless, soon he was sinking into darkness.


	4. Well we scheme and we scheme but we always blow it, we've yet to crash, but we still might as well tow it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had something I needed to say, but again I have forgotten.

Sam laughed as Riot—his Australian Shepherd—took off like a rocket, determined to catch the squirrel that had innocently decided to cross the street.  There weren’t any cars in the general vicinity as it was a small side street, so he wasn’t too worried about the dog getting hit by anything.  Even still he kept an eye out, remembering how he had hit Riot in the Impala more than a year ago.  The dog was hilarious but wasn’t exactly the brightest creature to ever have graced the earth. 

Continuing to walk back to Amelia’s house—now his too—Sam worried for the hundredth time about his brother, hunting with a werewolf.  Sam himself had slept with a werewolf, Madison, once and would’ve probably let her live had she not asked him to kill her, but there was something about Derek that the hunter just didn’t trust.  From the scars and marks on Dean he let his wolf out far too much with Sam’s brother for him to be comfortable.  Just the thought of Dean Turning into a werewolf and how he would react to that was enough to make Sam shiver.  He had been soulless when Dean was Turned into a vampire, but from what his brother told him about the time afterward, he had been prepared to let himself die rather than stay inhuman. 

Letting out a short whistle to call Riot back to him as he neared the house, Sam was surprised to see Amelia waiting outside.  The concerned look on her face and the way that she was holding a frying pan chased away all thoughts of Dean. 

“Amelia?”  Sam asked as he approached, trying to go through all the different supernatural scenarios in his head.  Had his hunting life finally caught up with him?

“You know all those funky drawings around our house that you’ve put up?”  Was her opener and Sam froze.

He had never told her about the devils traps and sigil’s he had put up as protection, just that they were a reminder of his dead family.  Since her husband had died in Afganistan she knew what it was like to try and remember people you missed, and had accepted the sigils.  Plus they were well hidden and so didn’t clash with any of the decor

After Sam gave a slow nod in reply, Amelia continued, “Well, actually, you know what, you should just come in.”

As she led him through the house Sam discreetly checked all the symbols they passed, making sure that everything was secure.  He couldn’t see any broken lines, but that didn’t guarantee that everything was alright.

“Is that blood?” He asked suddenly, noticing the red tint covering the base and side of the frying pan that Amelia was holding.

She glanced down at it and shrugged, still looking concerned but casual.  “Probably”

Now worried that this wasn’t actually Amelia, Sam was just about to attempt to subtly run through the tests on her when they rounded the last corner in the house that took them to the backdoor.  Well crap.

Standing inside the devil’s trap drawn on the bottom of the floor mat, was a blond haired man who appeared to have half of his skull bashed in from a heavy flat object.  He had his arms crossed and was frowning as if someone had done him a great injustice, and his eyes were completely black. 

“Could you please explain?” Amelia asked Sam, still brandishing the frying pan she had bashed the demon’s head in with.

 

~*~

 

The next day after all morning rituals were said and done, Derek called a pack meeting, originally at his house until he was convinced by general consensus that it should be moved to the pack apartment.  More general consensus said that since Dean and Derek were already up and about, they should get food for everyone.  Caving pretty quickly in a way that would’ve be amusing to Dean in any other circumstance where he didn’t know the unfairly guilty reasoning, they had agreed. 

So now, after going out and getting enough food to host half the population of the town, the couple was being let into the apartment by a sleep hazed Isaac.  Upon getting inside the apartment Dean almost laughed at the amount of sleepy werewolves.  Scott, Stiles and Erica hadn’t even changed out of pajamas, the former two wearing only sleeping pants while the latter had somehow managed to make her clothes look perfectly acceptable for public wear.  Granted they weren’t exactly public at the moment, but it was the amusing thought that counted. 

Derek did well hiding it from the pack, but Dean could feel the undercurrent of unease mixed with guilt that steadily flowed through the bond.  He did what he could to help, by sending over calm and love, and Derek flashed him a small smile as the Alpha collected a couple bagels from the bags they had brought and then stole a block of cream cheese right off of Isaac’s plate.  Surprisingly the younger werewolf didn’t notice even when Stiles burst out laughing, undeterred by the warning glare Derek sent his way. 

It only went to show how quickly the people in the room could adapt to change that when Cas appeared unannounced and directly in the middle of them all, Stiles merely shoved his plate at the angel and grabbed another, ushering Cas into the main room when he looked confused.  They each eventually found their places, Isaac, Allison and Scott squished on one larger chair, Stiles having somehow gotten himself and Cas into another while Erica, Boyd, and Derek sat on the couch, Dean on the floor and leaning back against his Alpha’s legs.

“So what’s up?”  Scott was the one to break the silence after polishing off his second bagel, barely batting an eye as he slapped Isaac’s hand which had been creeping over to steal his third.

Derek tensed behind Dean and the hunter glanced over to Cas after swallowing his bite of bagel, silently asking him to let the Alpha break the news first.  Fortunately the message was received.

“Castiel was looking around last night and came across an Alpha pack in Beacon Hills.” Derek announced, getting straight to the bottom of it.

The silence in the room was deafening for about two seconds before the chatter broke out. 

“An Alpha pack?  Like, a pack of _Alpha’s_?”

“Why are they here?  When’d they get here?”

“I haven’t noticed anything weird!”

Derek’s hand gripped in Dean’s hair and he pressed calm through the bond, soothing the irritation going through his mate.  Still, the emotion showed through when he snapped, “Quiet.”  The pack fell silent and Derek started to answer the questions that had been thrown about. “Cas says that there are five of them” Turing to the angel he asked, “Did you find anything else out?”

After this question Cas actually looked quite pleased with himself, and Dean smiled fondly as he wondered what human custom the angel had managed to follow.  Dean had long since come to terms with how freaking cute he found Cas’ little smiles when he thought he did well.  It wasn’t like the hunter was going to leave or cheat on Derek with him, just simply stating a fact of life.  Cas was really freaking adorable when doing stuff like humans.  And hot while being badass, but that was beside the point. 

“I used Stiles’ laptop and found a trail the pack took across America.”  Cas began, and instantly Dean could see what the smile was for.  The few attempts Cas had made at technology usually failed, so it was fantastic if this one had worked. 

“Hey there!  When did I say you could use my laptop?” Stiles protested, attempting to turn to face Cas and nearly falling out of the chair they were sharing.  With an ease that falsely spoke of having done so before, the angel caught the nephilim and pulled him back, wrapping an arm around him to keep him from falling.

“You did not.”  Cas continued to look self-satisfied and turned back to the matter at hand.  Personally Dean thought that the only reason Stiles hadn’t continued his protests was because he was too confused about the whole arm around him thing.  Oh funny people.  As Castiel continued to speak his smile faded. “They have been going through towns that have signs of animal attacks or sightings that would suggest a pack, killing the packs with their Alpha or, as far as I can tell, collecting the Alpha. I also found the names of all the Alphas and wrote them down on paper in Stiles’ room.  They make everything look like animal attacks so as not to be found, but I found the names based on reports of abductions or disappearances.”

“Shit.” Erica swore softly under her breath

Dean completely echoed the sentiment, but refrained from saying so, instead tilting his head and inquiring, “How’d you do all that?”

Cas’ eyes narrowed in slight exasperation, but he seemed almost worried about his answer.  “I’ve periodically watched you and Sam hunt since pulling you from hell.  I’ve, ‘picked up’ a few things.”

Huh.  So he had.  Unfortunately this revelation of hunting skills was bringing only bad but necessary news.  News that was sinking in quite slowly to everyone.  An Alpha pack who went around killing other packs and sometimes stealing their Alpha’s.  Unconsciously Dean shifted back into Derek, pressing his head up into the other’s hand.  No fucking way was he allowing anyone to take his mate away or kill him. 

“What are we going to do?” The question came from calm Boyd, always ready to listen and set them back on track.

Derek let out a breath before answering, “Prepare, startup training again, we can’t do much until we know what they’re here for, if anything.  Never go anywhere alone.”

 

~*~

 

Sitting faux-calmly next to Cas and trying not to freak out, Stiles ran over everything in his brain and came up with a great disturbing lack.  Had he ever heard of an Alpha pack?  No.  Like, how the heck did that even work anyways?  Was there an Alpha-Alpha and a bunch of Beta-Alphas?  Dang it, things had been going so well! 

“Were there any patterns?” Dean inquired, interrupting what was the start of an angry internal monologue about not getting any peace in his life.

The angel frowned and Stiles could feel him shake his head.  “No, I’ll go and get the papers I wrote on.”

Silence descended as each of them debated internally on what to do or how to fix things.  It was broken when Cas abruptly disappeared, causing Stiles to let out a very manful yelp and fall into the space he had just vacated.  The angel reappeared moments later and dropped a bunch of papers into Dean’s lap before turning back to his and Stiles’ chair.  Stiles got up to allow him back in, thankful that the angel had gotten over his weird dislike of contact with him.  That had actually been part of the reason why Stiles had continuously dragged Cas back for research times.  The whole nephilim thing apparently had freaked him out as much as it had Stiles, but in a way reminisce of threatening that he really wasn’t comfortable with being directed to his person. 

“Full moon’s tonight.” Allison commented and Stiles once again redirected his attention. 

“So they’ll probably do something.”  He added, sitting up and ignoring how the movement on the ratty chair they had sent him sliding almost into the angel’s lap.  Instead he thought aloud “We always stay together during the full moon, run around the preserve, but we haven’t spent one here in what, eight months.  Since they’re back here now just as we all got back they could possibly know that and have been watching for a while, maybe went to a different place in the meantime?  Or this could be a coincidence that they’re here, or they could have heard about the pack we chased off.  Where were they in August?”

“I was unable to find them.” Came the expected reply. 

Well crap.   ‘Cause that meant that there was a possibility that the Alpha pack had been coming for them in August, knew their schedules, and decided to come back and do the job now.  Plus full moon tonight?  Something was totally going to happen, and inevitably, no matter how much they prepared, the pack would get caught up in it.  At least they had an angel on their side, right?  That had to count for something.  He could go all badass like he had when they first met him.

Stiles had just opened his mouth to say as such when Cas’ hand clamped down on his wrist.  Only hard won instincts kept him from questioning this with shouts and bangs.  Instead he turned to Cas, noted the minor but definite shake of the head, and wisely kept his mouth shut. 

“We’ll still meet up at the preserve tonight, we can run in pairs, and never far enough away that we won’t be able to hear anyone else howl.  The humans will stay at the house, and at any sign of the Alpha pack make a loud noise.”  Derek ordered decisively, and Stiles had never been so glad he had matured into a proper Alpha for the pack.  “For humans that means bring guns, shoot the ground or sky, for wolves, howl.  It’ll alert them that we’re there, but considering how much experience this group already has, I doubt they’d not know and it’ll be better for us to face them all together.”

Stiles wanted to make a clever comment about the noise making, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it would be, far too distracted by the fact that Castiel’s hand hadn’t left his wrist.  Or rather, more distracted by the fact that he didn’t _want_ Castiel to let go of him.  He had really nice hands.  Wait, hold up one second.  Now was really not the time to be thinking that an angel had nice hands, especially considering Stiles was a nephilim—despite the lack of grace—there was an Alpha pack in town, and the angel’s vessel was what, probably ten years older than him?  Nope, not the right time.  Not that there would be a _right_ time, just right now wasn’t it.

Turning back to listen to the pack discuss matters after realizing that he had been sitting and staring at Castiel’s hand for a couple minutes, Stiles decided that all thoughts like that were to be forgotten and destroyed in the presence of the mind reading angel.

 

Not that he managed it very well.  Oh ya, he could avoid those thoughts when focused on something else, but the fact remained that he had sat with the hot angel in a chair meant for one person to lounge in for the entirety of the pack meeting and then through a movie they watched after in an attempt to make things seem less serious than they actually were.  Seriously, ask him what movie they watched and all Stiles would be able to tell you was that he was insanely jealous of Erica and Isaac who’d gone out to run and didn’t have to deal with attempting to think not think less than chaste thoughts about the mind reader sitting right next to him.

Luckily the meeting had ended and Stiles had been able to leap away without causing unnecessary suspicion.  The rest of the day had passed relatively uneventfully, filled with research and reading up on the Alpha pack.  Five Alpha wolves, then from what they could tell Deucalion was the lead blind Alpha-Alpha, and then Kali, Ennis, and twins Ethan and Aiden were the Beta-Alphas.  It had taken a little bit of coaxing, but Stiles had managed to get the whole pack to start calling them that.  When Derek had spoken about the Alpha-Alpha Stiles had nearly jumped for joy.  Seriously, he was freaking awesome.

But anyways, now they were at the Hale house for the full moon, having already let the puppies off to run in pairs while the humans sat in the hollowed out room that was going to become the living room.  They had been given strict orders to not go anywhere without their partner, so naturally they split up into Boyd and Erica, Isaac, Derek and Scott, and then the four humans in pairs of Dean and Castiel and Stiles and Allison.  So far it had been pretty good as there hadn’t been any howls of warning or alarm, and other than the heated argument Stiles and Dean had gotten into over what was the best pastry type, they’d been getting along marvelously.  Granted, due to the general lack of repairs and heating in the house they had needed to cozy up and therefore kinda had to get along, but that was beside the point. 

A warning bark alerted the humans to Derek, Isaac and Scott coming back, and the latter two raced into the room, almost bouncing in glee.  Stiles’ incredulous look went unnoticed as they smushed themselves around and in-between Cas and Allison.  They were settling down with Scott wrapped around Allison and Isaac with his head in her lap while the werewolves had their legs tangled together when Derek appeared at the door, making his way over to supposedly sit by Stiles and Dean.

Instead of allowing this however, Stiles jumped up, grabbing Derek’s arm and glaring at Dean.  “There, now that the puppies are back Derek’s going to drive me into town to get pastries, and then we’re going to try them and have a general consensus that will _not_ result in pie being the best type.”

“Hold up now, I could’ve driven us earlier, and besides, what bakery is open now?” Dean asked, affronted “Plus, pie totally is the best types.”

“And leave Cas with the puppies?”  Stiles grinned slyly, sliding his eyes over to the angel who was curiously examining the foot that had just been placed in his lap. 

Not examining it like the time Stiles had touched Derek and the Alpha had threatened him with his eyebrows, but innocently, like he actually didn’t know what to do about it.  So freaking adorable.  No, nope.  Pastries.  Delicious pastries that, while pie _was_ amazing, were better.

“We’re not puppies” Isaac chose that moment to supply, frowning at Stiles upside down. 

“You’re smiling when you frown upside down” Stiles informed him, trying to lead Derek to the door before realizing that they needed Dean’s keys.

Isaac responded to that by smiling brilliantly and then frowning again, mixing the two expressions until he was just staring up at Stiles with huge puppy dog eyes.  The perceived innocence practically radiating off him and the angel made Stiles burst out laughing, and he had to take a few moments to catch his breath before he could make grabby hands at Dean and demand the keys to transport.

Though it was done with a lot of eye-rolling, the hunter reluctantly handed over the keys, chucking them to Derek and addressing Stiles “No way are you driving my baby.”

Mock-pouting, Stiles dragged the Alpha out of the door, chuckling at the betrayed glare he sent his mate.  Mate, ugh.   Actually, wait, no, that meant that Dean couldn’t get angry if Stiles stole Cas, since he had done the same with Derek.  Okay, halting thoughts.   Stiles wasn’t going to steal Cas, he didn’t even want to, just, thoughts.  Yup, that’s all.  Thoughts.


	5. Well I hadn't noticed but the people really noticed that they really didn't want us around

Erica stopped mid leap, skidding to an undignified halt and nearly tripping over herself in a way she would never admit to the rest of the pack.

“Boyd?” She asked as the other werewolf appeared between the trees, looking concerned at her abrupt stop.  “Didn’t Dean say that demons smelt like sulfur?”

He didn’t even have to nod, the widening of his eyes said it all.  The gradual buildup of the smell had been _so_ gradual that Erica hadn’t noticed it until she had ran through a smelly sage plant, but now she realized that she could smell nothing else.  On all the lookout for smells of foreign wolves, she had never considered running into any of the creatures Dean had spoken of.  She couldn’t _see_ any demons, but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t around.  Of course the smell could have a reasonable completely normal explanation, but she really doubted it with the fact that they were in Beacon Hills.  This place always attracted trouble.

“I can’t hear any heartbeats” Boyd announced, tilting his head upwards and opening his mouth to scent the air. 

That was true, other than the normal woodland creatures, she couldn’t hear any humans, just the rustling of a creature, deer perhaps, walking through brush.  The smell though was almost sickening, cloying and distracting her from being able to pinpoint where exactly it was coming from.  A shadow moved to the side and her head whipped around, mouth already open to howl a warning. 

Before she could even draw breath to make more than a choked gasp, a huge weight slammed into her back and Erica was on the ground, fighting back against whatever held her.  The noise of another scuffle proved that Boyd had been hit at the same time and she realized that the brush rustling had been used to cover up any heartbeats they might’ve heard.  How the hell did that even work?

Still struggling and trying to draw breath enough to scream, a clawed hand was slapped over Erica’s mouth and two red eyes fixed on her face, the mocking grin that accompanied them was the last thing she saw before darkness took her.  Even through the seemingly omnipresent smell of sulfur, she still caught a whiff of wolfsbane.

 

~*~

 

Deucalion smirked, leaning back in his chair and inhaling softly, his movements the only noise in the otherwise empty warehouse.  Deucalion’s Alpha pack had had Beacon Hills in their sights for a while now, ready to recruit the Alpha there, Derek Hale.  They had meant to pick him up months ago, but after an unforeseen leave they had unfortunately needed to wait.  Pursing his lips slightly, he wondered if that had been a very good thing or very bad.  Yes, they were still going to recruit Hale, but now they had another party joining in to help. 

During the break and while working with the two newest members of the pack—the twins—Deucalion had gotten an unexpected visitor with some new information.  Apparently in the time between the Hale pack temporarily disbanding and coming back to the inconsequential town of Beacon Hills, Hale had gotten himself a mate, none other than Dean Winchester, a hunter everyone had heard of.  The visitor, who had reeked of rotten eggs, had promised to help the pack kill Winchester on one simple condition.  That the visitor leave a prisoner with them, and they get him to one of Hale’s humans.  Oh yes, Deucalion knew that it wasn’t as simple as it sounded.  For one the ozone smelling prisoner wore manacles and chains that he could feel the deep carvings in, evidently sigils that somehow damped whatever type of creature the thing was, and additionally he always smelt like blood.  When he had asked Kali, Deucalion had found out that the blood was from open wounds the prisoner was covered in. 

So no, he wasn’t stupid even though he had agreed.  He was just aware that Winchester was quite the force to be reckoned with, and if the sulfur smelling visitor had something against him, then they could work together until one or the other was dead.  Deucalion had followed on the terms laid out, and two days after arriving in the town and settling into a couple abandoned warehouses, he sent out his attack.  Hale’s pack was still of yet unaware of them being there unless something had changed in the past day, so surprise was on their side.  When Kali had phoned with news that the pack was splitting up for the full moon, he had decided to set things in motion.

Kali and Ennis had taken the prisoner and were going after Hale’s human, while Ethan and Aiden went to, let’s say, ‘pick up’ a couple members of their pack.  Just for a little forewarning, or leverage if need be. 

They had it all planned out, and not even the fact that the place smelt rancid like the visitor could stop Deucalion from gloating in the quiet of his mind as he heard a vehicle nearing.  Inside it there were four heartbeats, which meant that they had caught two of the lesser pack.  It was a pity the others weren’t back for this yet. 

“We’ve got them” Ethan shouted triumphantly after a car door slammed and Deucalion barely resisted rolling his eyes at the obviousness. 

He didn’t speak as the two other Alphas opened the huge doors of the warehouse and entered, chattering between themselves as they brought the new prisoners in, instead he focused on the scents of the new wolves.  One was female and the other male, both smelling strongly of their pack.  The smell of wolfsbane tainted them and Deucalion could imagine the way the plant covered the ropes they had to have been bound with.  Not being able to see was annoying, but quite often the other further enhanced senses made up for it. 

Just like now that he could tell the rotten egg scent had grown stronger.  Perhaps the visitor knew that they were acting out plans tonight and was coming to see how well things were going.  The thought made him angry, as if some random creature could check up on them.  Sharp clicking noises showed that his pack was chaining up the newcomers and so Deucalion dismissed the irritation to the back of his mind. 

“Wake them up” He ordered softly, standing and knowing his command would be brought out.  For all that these Alpha’s had been terrible to their now deceased former packs, they were quite good at recognizing when was not the time to argue. 

Short slapping notes echoed through the dusty warehouse and one by one he could tell the wolves were waking up. 

“What the hell do you want?” The girl spat upon consciousness, and he took a moment to admire her tenacity. 

“Nothing from you, you’re merely live bait.  For now at least.”  Was that smell still getting stronger?  There weren’t any heartbeats that would belay life. 

“For who then?” This time it was the boy who asked, his voice soft as if he didn’t speak a lot.

“Your Alpha of course” Aiden replied and Deucalion sighed in exasperation.  There really was no need to tell them everything, regardless of the fact that they wouldn’t be getting out of here alive. 

Even without being able to see them Deucalion could tell there was some kind of silent communication going on between the two Hale pack.  Well that just wouldn’t do.

He had just opened his mouth to speak when the twin spoke over him again, worry clear in his voice.  “What’s that?”

What was what?  Had the visitor finally showed himself?  Could have been following the twins, though there was very little that could go up against a pack of Alphas, so he wasn’t particularly worried.  More cross that he’d been interrupted. 

“It’s like a moving cloud of smoke,” Aiden supplied at Deucalion’s raised eyebrow in his general direction.  “Except it’s multicolored.”

How curious.  Not the visitor then, but smoke?  From the direction the Alpha’s had moved Deucalion figured that they were watching it approach from outside the warehouse, exactly the same direction the smell was blowing in from.

A choking laugh suddenly came from the girl and he paused at the tone of it.  The odd combination of helplessness and triumph carried over to her strained voice.  “We may be screwed, but you’re just as fucked as us.” 

 

~*~

 

Erica continued to laugh, almost completely out of her mind with how fucked they all were.  First her and Boyd were kidnapped by the Alpha pack, and now there was a cloud of white, yellow and black smoke approaching through the sky towards them.  A cloud made up of smaller clouds that looked exactly like how Dean had described demons looking like.  He had even said that those were the colors of demons, just add in red and they’d have all of them. 

But spoken explanations couldn’t eclipse the shear horror of seeing so many demons twisting through the air towards them.  The Alphas started to back up as if to run, but the cloud broke apart and dipped, only the few white demons and what Erica could now see was only one yellow one speeding towards the wolves.  Thank God they had their antipossession chains, though much good they’d do while Erica and Boyd were tied up.

Splitting apart once more, Erica wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not that there were only enough colored demons for each of the Alpha’s.  They wouldn’t be possessed, but they’d be in the possession of a group of Alpha werewolves taken over by demons.  The wolves attempted to run to no avail, the smoke pouring down their throats and then their bodies falling and convulsing. 

Glancing over at Boyd, Erica stared helplessly at her packmate as she tried not to think about what was happening, wanting somhow to ignore the screams.  Castiel had told them that a demon could not inhabit the same space as a werewolf, which meant that right now they were killing the wolves and taking over their bodies.  Exactly what was going to happen to her and Boyd once they got rid of their antipossession charms and the rest of the cloud of demons descended. 

The blind Alpha was the last to fall still but it was the first to stand up, taking off the sunglasses the Alpha had been wearing and dropping them carelessly.  Finally opening its eyes, Erica couldn’t stop her gasp of horror.  They were a flat yellow with a brilliant red ring around the outside.  The Beta knew next to nothing about demons, but as the others also stood with white and red eyes, she realized that her previous assumption had been wrong.  The demons weren’t killing the wolves and possessing the human part of the Alphas, they were killing the human parts and possessing the wolves. 

And as the yellow eyed Alpha approached her with claws slowly extending and fangs barred in a brilliant grin, Erica knew that they were well, and truly, fucked. 


	6. Gonna climb around on all fours 'til all the blood falls out my knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this one being a bit shorter, as well as the last one. They'll get back to normal length soon, I promise.

After Stiles had dragged Derek off to get pastries from wherever was still open at a time that Dean was led to believe normal people slept at, the hunter had been hauled into another argument that he lovingly and completely blamed Stiles for, regardless of the fact that the nephilim wasn’t present.  Thankfully he hadn’t needed to give a reply for quite a bit. 

“I just don’t think we should call them Alpha-Alphas and Beta-Alphas, those names are too repetitive and could be misinterpreted.  Head Alpha, Second Alpha and then Other Alphas has so much more variety.”  Allison laid out her argument with all the concentration of a general at war.

“Other Alphas? No way.  I can get behind Alpha-Alpha and Second Alpha, but Other Alphas is far to generalized.  Derek’s another Alpha, but he’s not park of their pack.”  Scott argued back

Allison twisted her neck back so she was able to glare at her boyfriend.  “But Derek’s our Alpha, we’re never going to call him an Other Alpha.”

“He’s not Cas’ Alpha” Scott countered, nodding toward the angel.

 “He just calls him Derek though.”  She turned back to him, putting on a face that threatened, ‘Either agree with me or be forced to watch your back for the rest of your life, ‘cause I have arrows and am not afraid to use them.’ “Right, Cas?”

Cas’ eyes widened in surprise at being included and then he glared as Dean chuckled at his awkwardness.  

“We already recognize those as their names though, making new ones would just make it complicated” Surprisingly it was Isaac who protested, grinning up from where he was lying in Allison’s lap. “Plus, _Derek_ called Deucalion the Alpha-Alpha”

The girl bit her lip, musing for a second before agreeing, “I guess, and Stiles isn’t here to argue his case for his names.  He’d probably be upset if we came up with new ones without him.”

“Speaking of weird names, what actually _is_ Stiles real name?” Isaac asked Scott, prompting Allison into rolling her eyes in exasperation

“He won’t even tell me” She said sullenly, then looked slightly mischievous as she exchanged a look with Isaac

Dean blinked, considering it.  He had never actually thought about it, but of course Stiles wasn’t the nephilim’s real name.  What kind of parent would name their kid Stiles Stilinski? 

“Scott,” Allison started dramatically and they all turned to watch her, barely existing smirks showing anticipation of whatever manipulation was to come.  “If you truly love me, won’t you tell me Stiles’ real name?”

“I’ve already told you, it’s not happening” Scott muttered, staring furiously at the floor in avoidance of looking at his girlfriend.

“Well do you love _me_ enough to say?”  Isaac asked, crawling forward until he was blocking Scott’s view of the floor.

The Beta blushed and changed his gaze into staring up at the ceiling as if that would save him from the two people clinging to him with puppy eyes.  They could almost put Sam’s puppy eyes to shame.

“Come on Scott, your love for both Allison _and_ Isaac is being called into question, all you need to give out is a name” Dean pressed, joining in with the innocently spoken demands

“If Stiles’ wanted you all to know, he’d tell you.  I’ve already promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone.  And!” Scott added when Isaac opened his mouth to contradict this, “Anyone does include the pack.”

Dean noted Cas shifting guiltily, but for another surprise Allison spoke up before he could.  “Castiel you can read his mind, do you know what his name is?”

The angel looked betrayed, glaring at her for dragging him into the new argument as well and replying, “If Stiles’ doesn’t want anyone to know, then I won’t say either”

“Come on Cas” Dean teased, drawing the angel’s glare to him and grinning innocently “Where’s that privacy invading angel I know, since when have you cared what’s socially acceptable?”

Surprisingly Cas grinned and Dean instantly pulled back slightly into the couch, worried.  The angel sounded so pleased with himself when he announced, “I would say but I’ve heard it’s ‘bad form’ to talk to someone when they’re on the phone.”

Dean tilted his head in confusion, but was cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket.  Automatically pulling it out and seeing Sam’s name flashing on the front, Dean glared at Cas as he stood up to take the call, declaring, “That’s just mean”

The argument continued as Dean went to another room, the last part of it he heard before answering was Cas attempting to deflect the questions back to Scott, and failing miserably.  Ha, served him right.

“Sam?” Dean asked, his tone belaying slight concern. 

While he _was_ having fun arguing with the pack, Sam didn’t call much.  He could just be checking in to make sure Dean was still alive, but there was always that small possibility that something was wrong.

“Dean, there is a demon stuck in my back entryway telling me that Crowley’s looking for the nephilim you’re friends with.”  Well fuck, consider that ‘small’ possibility a definite one.

“How does Crowley know about him?” Dean asked, careful to not mention names. 

Not that Sam couldn’t be trusted, just that he didn’t know who was listening in on either end.  Sending the pack into a panic wouldn’t be any good until he had more information.   Not that a panic would be a bad idea at the current moment.  An Alpha pack _and_ Crowley?

“I’ve no idea, but I want to know what’s happening.  ‘Cause if there’s some big thing going on, I need to know what it is.” Sam warned, the concern evident in his voice.  As if there ever _wasn’t_ some big thing happening.  At Dean’s hesitation Sam snapped, “Don’t try and protect me by keeping me out of the loop, this is affecting my life now so I need to know.  What’s happening, and how long has it been going on?”

Dean scowled as Sam ran right over his biggest argument, not wanting to draw his brother away from his apple pie life.  Not so apple pie anymore if there were demons in it.

“Damn it” He cursed under his breath before replying with a question, “Did the demon say why he was coming after you?”

“Said I might know who the nephilim is.  Don’t deflect” Sam admonished

“It doesn’t really have to do with demons.” Dean huffed, laying out the base details.  “There’s a pack of Alpha werewolves over here, we don’t know what they want, but if they’ve something to do with Crowley, oh shit!”

Realizing that Derek and Stiles were out there alone right now and easy prey for a pack, plus if there _were_ demons, Dean checked the bond and found Derek frantic as a wave of pain washed through his mate. 

Hurriedly making an excuse to Sam and promising him that he’d call back later, Dean hung up and rushed into the other room, finding the pack alert and standing up, having evidently smelt Dean’s panic.

Letting it out in a rush, Dean said, “Crowley sent a demon to visit Sam, and something’s attacking Derek and Stiles.”

 

~*~

 

Stiles stumbled and Derek reached out, hauling the kid up as they ran.  He could hear the sounds of their pursuers gaining on them and he desperately tried to run faster without leaving Stiles behind.  He had just _known_ that it was a bad idea to go out for food.  Why couldn’t they have called in or something?  Pastries were not worth one or both of them dying at the hands of demon wolves, no matter what anyone else said.

“Here” Derek hissed, pulling Stiles’ by his arm and directing them down a side alley that went in the direction of the jeep. 

Why the hell did they have to run the wrong way when leaving the store?  When running for your life, giant circles were not fun nor reasonable. 

They had just made it to the parking lot when wings fluttered and an angel appeared, definitely not Cas and therefore not on their side.  Skidding to a stop, Derek opened his mouth to call Cas—no way was he getting in a fight with an angel without another angel around to help—when he was slammed into from behind.  Twisting and snarling, Derek slashed out, his claws catching the creature behind him but not slowing it down as Kali sunk her teeth into his shoulder, just missing his neck. 

Derek kicked backwards in an effort to get her off, but then another Alpha—one of the twins this time—was there, slamming his head into the ground and stunning him long enough for Kali to exchange her grip to around Derek’s spine, sinking in and threatening to go through.  There was a ripping sound and the twin stuffed a piece of disgusting tasting cloth into Derek’s mouth, preventing him from praying aloud.  It was hard to kill a werewolf, but a bite through the spine and a couple shakes would not be something Derek would heal easily from.

Stiles let out a yelp of pain and Derek attempted to jerk his head up, just managing enough that he could see the kid being held up by the angel, the thing ignoring the knife Stiles had produced from nowhere and sunk into its chest.  It was almost comical, if not for the situation at hand, but the angel was using a young delivery guy for a vessel, still dressed up in a cheesy outfit covered in blood.  He didn’t look like he wanted to be there, and the sympathy in his eyes as he pulled a white vial out of his uniform made Derek want to tear his face off.  What right did this angel have to feel sympathetic for whatever he was about to do?

Raising the vial as the kid continued to resist, the angel tightened his hand and Derek could hear the vial shatter even above the sounds of himself and Stiles struggling.  White misty light poured out of the angel’s hand and Stiles stopped struggling, freezing as the light made its way towards him.  Derek screamed at him through the twin’s gag, but all the protest gained him was Kali tightening her grip on his neck and pain as something began to sever. 

The light continued its journey and Derek heard a commanding voice in his head, though he didn’t notice the angel’s eyes snapping towards him.  _“Close your eyes”_

Derek’s eyes closed without his permission and then everything seemed to explode in light, his eyelids not completely shutting out the brilliance that seeped through them and seemed to burn at Derek with a terrible heat.  A ringing noise started up and Derek felt his ears start to bleed at the same time that he heard glass shattering.

Dean screamed at him through the bond and the presence of his mate gave Derek the mind to notice the wolves backing off, releasing him and screaming in pain.  Taking this out for what it was, Derek scrabbled at the ground, pulling himself out from underneath them, spitting out the gag and crawling towards the place he knew Stiles to be.  The light had gone down enough that Derek could squint, and he ignored the burning in his retinas in favor of lunging, dragging himself to his feet and grabbing a withering Stiles from the angel’s grasp. 

Plunging his hand into the kid’s pocket, Derek grabbed his keys and practically wrenched open the Jeep’s driver side door, throwing Stiles inside and whipping around to take note of their enemies as he got inside himself.  The two wolves were screaming on the ground, their hands over their eyes and their ears bleeding.  The angel had stumbled to his knees and was watching them leave, his burnt and blackened hand held to his chest as he shouted at Derek.  Not able to hear or comprehend anything, dazed, and not understanding what was going on, Derek slammed the key into the ignition and started the jeep with violence that would’ve had Stiles yelling at him if the kid wasn’t screaming his head off and contorting his body unnaturally in pain. 

Automatically driving away, Derek could feel calm pouring into him through the bond and he had never been more thankful for his mate sending him emotions.  Using the calm and bond as an anchor, Derek used the last useful and non-fucked up sense available to him, opening his mouth and breathing deeply to try and figure out if they were being followed.  It really wasn’t useful, but Derek could smell enough to know that there were no longer any members of the Alpha pack close. 

Not knowing where he was but out of range, Derek turned off the jeep and practically fell out the door, leaving the vehicle on as he called Cas, his voice sounding weird and distorted through his blown out eardrums.  Scrambling to the other side, Derek dragged Stiles out of the car and jumped in surprise as he noticed Castiel standing behind him, the angel flanked by Scott and Dean, both of whom jumped forward to help Derek with Stiles.  Scott relieved Derek of Stiles’ weight and Dean caught the Alpha as he almost fell, burrowing into Dean’s side but still watching the pain torn kid.  What the hell was happening, and why the hell was Cas just standing there and looking horrified?


	7. I was in heaven I was in hell, believe in neither but fear them as well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've got one more chapter written after this before I need to connect the large parts of the story. Therefore unless I get lots of writing done, which I'm counting on, I may have to update once every two days for a short time. After that I've got a lot more though, so it'll be back to once a day. Then I realized that I wanted to add a whole 'nother part to the end-ending, so there'll be that too. I have no idea when I'll be able to tell you all how many chapters this thing will actually have. It's already a lot longer than I meant for it to be. 
> 
> Also, (this part is less important) I've finished going through all of Modest Mouse's songs, so the chapter names should all work to some extent now, instead of just a few of them. The only problem was I totally found a great chapter title for the chapter in World at Large about the demon deals, which is a chapter I had a problem finding a name for, and this one would've been perfect. 'They'd sell off yer soul for a set of new wings and anything gold'. How awesome would that have been.

Castiel stood in shock, staring down at the nephilim withering on the ground.  Because now he _was_ a nephilim, full of his own grace.  However someone had managed to find Stiles’ exact grace Castiel had no idea, but it was being eagerly welcomed by the oldest parts of his soul while fighting with the newer parts.  It was killing him.

“Help him!” Scott cried, yet unable to drag Castiel’s attention away from amazed analysis on the dying nephilim. 

Stiles was a good person, he was amusing, loyal, intelligent, and everything in Castiel was telling him to let the nephilim die.  It was a completely ingrained reaction that felt almost impossible to stop.  Like years ago in the green room when Dean had yelled at him about obeying his superiors, asked him to help stop the apocalypse, been refused and told him that they were done.  Castiel just couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t save this nephilim because everything inside him had been conditioned to want him dead.  Nephilim were abominations against Father and they couldn’t be allowed to live.

But this was _Stiles_.  And Castiel enjoyed talking with Stiles, enjoyed being around him, next to him, seeing him.  He promised Stiles that he wouldn’t kill him, and death by neglect was the same as stabbing him with his blade. If Stiles died, he’d become unreachable in Void like any other angel, Castiel would never see him again.  This unique, amazing, brilliant mix of soul and grace would be lost.  

“Cas” Dean spoke now, and Castiel’s eyes flickered to him.  The hunter was holding his mate up and meeting the angel’s eyes with the sort of determination that so long ago brought Castiel back to the green room and had him standing up against archangels he knew would kill him.  And now again he appeared to know what to say.  “It doesn’t matter what the fuck heaven or your douche bag brothers made you believe, alright?  You’re not a part of the host anymore, you don’t need to follow their rules.  You aren’t brainwashed, this is you, _you_ can choose to help him.  I know you want to.”

Castiel took strength from watching Dean’s soul, almost one full half of it was Derek’s, swirling together to create one large new one between them, but it was still just as gorgeous as the first time the angel saw it shining in the depths of hell.  Taking a deep breath and ignoring Derek’s added pleadings for him to help Stiles, Castiel walked over to the nephilim and crouched down, sitting cross legged after a moment’s consideration.  He wanted to disobey by saving Stiles, wanted with every fiber of his being, and he could take the reassurance from Dean to help him do so.  Reaching forward, Castiel placed his hands on either side of the nephilim’s head, stilling him as he screamed and struggled. 

Pushing into Stiles’ mixed soul and grace, Castiel started the process by examining the parts ripping him apart, figuring out why exactly he was rejecting himself.  Stiles’ old soul and grace were smoothly integrating as Castiel had noticed before, but the new regrown parts of his soul were indeed trying to get rid of the grace, the completely exposed soul just as powerful as the grace and driving it out of the nephilim.  While Stiles had lived for his whole life without grace, now that it was back and had been partially accepted, the newer parts of soul were driving out both grace and his old soul.  Therefore Castiel had to even the forces, add in his own grace. 

Castiel hesitated, but as more grace was obliterated he didn’t have enough time to think.  When he was a fully powered angel he could have done this easily, but now he didn’t have enough grace for the nephilim to lose all of his and need replacing.  This would take enough by itself.  Taking an unnecessary deep breath, Castiel started to pour his grace into the broken nephilim.  Doing this would create a one-sided bond between them, where Castiel would be able to feel Stiles, but the nephilim would be able to feel nothing from him.  So it wouldn’t be too invasive, though having Stiles in his head may change his opinion later on. 

Continuing to pour his grace into Stiles, Castiel twined it around the nephilim’s own grace and then drew tendrils into his soul.  Taking hold of that, Castiel sent reassurance into it, calming the nephilim as he manipulated and mixed his soul-grace.  On the outside Stiles stopped his screaming but the angel was oblivious, focusing on cutting off his own grace and leaving it behind as a shield from prying eyes when he pulled out. 

As soon as the bond was complete and Castiel’s grace was cut off, a completely different part of Castiel’s mind seemed to snap, a block breaking away and leaving Castiel inhaling sharply as memories of a woman in a white room poured through his head.  The bond that he had created with Stiles completely destroyed the bond that the woman, the angel, _Naomi_ had hidden in his grace.  She had been using him, wanting him to spy of the Winchesters and demons for her.  Thank Father the demons hadn’t appeared before the bond had been broken.

“Cas, Cas man you okay?  Is Stiles okay?” Coming back to himself, Castiel realized that Dean was speaking to him, calling his name over and over. 

Tilting his head up, the angel blinked slowly, confused by the concern in his charge’s voice.  The angel stood up abruptly and then almost fell over as he experienced a ‘head rush’, cursing the speed at which he was losing his grace.  That was probably progressed by what Naomi had been doing to him, though Castiel hadn’t yet had enough time to sort through these new memories.  It looked like she had only taken him to heaven twice, once for a meeting and the second time to berate him about spending so much time on the Alpha pack.

“Is he okay?”  Scott asked about the nephilim, crouching down next to Stiles and listening closely. 

“He’ll be fine” Castiel replied curtly, stepping further back and shutting his eyes tightly to ward off the headache that was coming on.

He hadn’t gotten over the fact that he had just helped a nephilim, an abomination that should have, by all rights, been killed as soon as looked at.  And now he was torn between prodding at the newly formed bond in his head to make sure Stiles would be okay and getting as far away from this thing as he could so that he was able to reason with the still follower part of himself that needed heaven.  Frowning as the nephilim twitched and curled up into himself with a snort, Castiel checked the bond before he could stop himself, warmth burning through him at the feel that Stiles’ soul was calming, accepting the balance between its four parts, Stiles original nephilim soul, new reborn human soul, original nephilim grace, and Castiel’s newly integrated grace.

Naomi would’ve ordered Castiel to kill Stiles, something that twisted his grace far more than keeping him alive did.  She hadn’t gotten much out of him which was a relief, more as if she had been waiting to use him, keeping him as a last resort pet.  Forcing himself to turn away from his morbid thoughts and the way Isaac picked Stiles up and cradled him over to the Jeep, Castiel resolved to speak with Dean the Naomi memories and his new bond later.  The hunter showed little love for ‘chick-flick’ moments, but as he was mates with a werewolf whom he had originally only _just_ not let Castiel kill, perhaps he could help the angel figure out how to live with having a nephilim in his head.  Plus he had never liked Castiel lying to him, and withholding information was just as bad in his eyes.

Moving with them back to the jeep, Castiel further resolved that he wouldn’t tell Stiles of the bond between them.  That would complicate things to places Castiel didn’t understand.  The more human he became the more he was taken over by these emotions he just didn’t get.  Often he wished to be a full angel for the mere simplicity of not being guided by feelings. 

Unable to stop himself from worrying over Stiles as Castiel squished in with the Scott in the back of the jeep, the angel knew that things were never that simple. 

 

~*~

 

Upon their return to Derek’s house Dean was alternating between being concerned for the kid—scratch—nephilim, who was still pale, unconscious and completely floppy, concern for Cas, who was drifting off into staring guiltily horrified at nothing and had actually stumbled at one point, and concern for his mate, who was paying so much attention to watching Stiles as if he could will him to wake that he wasn’t paying attention at all to his surroundings.  But of course when Allison and Isaac ran out of the house, new problems had to arise.

“Erica and Boyd are missing.”  Allison blurted out before she caught sight of Stiles, who Scott was holding.  “Is he okay?”

“Missing?”  Derek repeated, incomprehension swirling across their bond.

Dean felt like the world was dropping out from under him and knew that Derek was feeling the same.  Right after getting back from Stiles _screaming_ like he was in hell, like he was being torn to shreds, and now two pack members were missing?  Just how wide spread was this Alpha pack?  ‘Cause it better have been the Alpha pack, unless…  Unless it had been demons.  Sam had just called after all.

“Derek, what happened to you and Stiles?”  Dean asked, breaking into Cas’ clipped answer that Stiles would be fine.  His mate turned to look at him blankly and the hunter felt a wave of self-loathing for forcing his mate to answer when he so obviously wasn’t ready to.  “Derek, you need to tell me _exactly_ what happened.”

“I don’t know.”  Derek answered, swallowing and shaking his head minutely.  “We were going to the store, and then they were there.”  At Dean’s prompting he elaborated, “Kali and Ennis.  They were chasing us, but an angel appeared.  He was working with them, and when the Alphas restrained me he grabbed Stiles and broke a vial of white light next to his head.”

Cas’ sharp intake of breath when Derek mentioned another angel was loud in the oppressive silence of the Alpha’s words.  “Another angel?  You are sure?”

“Yes, a pizza delivery guy.”  Derek expanded distractedly, then licked his lips.  “I think he told me to close my eyes.  I did, and the light exploded.  It burnt the Alphas and I grabbed Stiles and ran.  Then you guys were there.”

Cas muttered something under his breath, but Dean only caught ‘but why?’ and ‘not Naomi’.  Ignoring that for the moment, Dean turned to Allison and Isaac, demanding, “How do you know they’re missing?”

“I howled for them to come back as soon as you guys left.”  Isaac responded promptly, “And then I went just around the perimeter of the house and I couldn’t find them.  They’re gone.  They wouldn’t have ignored me.”

“You howled for them?” Derek choked, staring at Isaac in horror.  “That was stupid, what if the Alphas heard?  What the hell would you and Allison have been able to do if they’d wanted to get you too?”

Deciding that his mate was being too harsh in his hopelessness and anger at the news, Dean grabbed the back of his neck, drawing Derek close into his body, wrapping his other arm around him and tucking his head into Dean’s neck in a way so that the hunter could still look at the pack and Cas. 

“We need to leave here.  The house isn’t finished so it’s not safe, we’re going back to the apartment.  Scott, drive Allison and Isaac back there, we’ll follow with Stiles and Cas.  We’ll talk and sort out what’s happening there.”  Dean ordered, glancing at each of the pack to make sure they agreed.

It was actually Scott who came up with an argument, pulling the nephilim closer to himself and Isaac.  “We can take Stiles. I’ve already—”

“No” Cas cut in, his voice forceful. “I need to be near him.”  Scott looked like he would argue further and Cas hissed, “I gave him part of my grace, if I’m there he won’t be in pain.”

This seemed to be satisfying for Scott if not something he was happy about as he nodded and handed the unconscious nephilim to the angel who still looked like he was far too human for his species.  Nevertheless, Cas managed quite well, holding Stiles with an ease Dean hadn’t expected.

The pack got into their respective cars and Dean turned to place a kiss to the top of Derek’s head, murmuring, “We’ll get them back, we just need to think about this and work things through.”

He wasn’t so naïve to think that there was a guarantee that they’d get them back alive, but he wasn’t cruel enough to say so.  The thought that they _wouldn’t_ get them back really hurt.  While Boyd and him hadn’t spoken much, Erica and him had become close enough to tease and poke fun at each other.  Honestly she reminded him of Jo, without the more than sibling feelings.  God why’d he have to think of Jo, now there were thoughts of hellhounds, and fire, and leaving behind two really good friends.  At least Erica and Boyd were together, they had each other through this.

“You don’t think we will.” Derek broke through Dean’s thoughts and he realized that he should close the bond somewhat because yes, he had been thinking of them in terms of being as good as dead already.

“We’ll get them back.”  There was no lie in the statement, dead or alive, they’d get them back.  “We’ll do everything we can.”  And _that_ was a promise.

Apparently the conviction in his second statement soothed Derek for the moment, as he slowly detached himself from Dean and wandered over to the impala, pausing for a moment halfway there and changing his route to help Cas get Stiles into the back. 

Getting behind the wheel, Dean tried to run over what they could do.  Not even going to lie, he _really_ wanted to call Sam and ask his brother for help.  It might’ve been selfish, but since Sam’s apple pie life had already been invaded by demons, helping them with an Alpha pack wasn’t zero to sixty.  And fuck, demons?  Why the hell were they going after Sam, and why’d they want Stiles?  Actually, Cas should know that.

“Cas, Crowley’s looking for Stiles.” Dean admitted into the strained silence of the vehicle. 

Another sharp inhale answered him and Dean could see Cas clutching tighter to the nephilim in the rear view mirror.  The reaction made Dean think of a kid trying to protect their toy, and he wondered quite suddenly just how Cas had gone from uneasily inching away from Stiles to pulling him tighter at the earliest threat of danger. 

“He doesn’t know who Stiles is, just looking for our nephilim.”  He expanded, trying to give what little reassurance there was. 

“But the Alpha pack gave Stiles his grace back.”  Derek spoke up suddenly, sitting up straight.  “What if they’re working together?”

Shit.  What if they _were_ working together?  A group of Alphas and Crowley?  It could make sense.  The Alphas here for the pack and Crowley for Dean and Cas?  Except that Crowley wanted Stiles.  Apparently.

“In order to save Stiles’ life, I created a bond between us.”  Cas interjected randomly, and Dean noticed Derek’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the randomness of the statement.  “When someone is connected to two opposing bonds, the weaker of the two is cut.  When I created the bond, I found another one was already there.  An angel named Naomi has been calling me up to heaven and then removing my memories of it.  She wanted me to find a group of demons who has the angel tablet.  Crowley could have the tablet”

“What the hell?”  Dean hissed, whipping around to stare at the angel in the backseat, protective anger flooding through him

Another angel had erased Cas’ memories and using him?  Oh fuck no.  That was just not right.  He was going to kill whoever dared manipulate Cas like that.

Unfortunately Cas seemed to take his anger the wrong way and flinched back, ducking his head down as he rushed to say, “She hasn’t called me back enough times for me to actually tell her anything, only twice.”

“She’ gone though?  Like she can’t get to you anymore, and you remember everything now?”  Dean asked, twisting to look back at the road but still throwing glances Cas’ way. 

“No, not unless she breaks the bond between me and Stiles, which I would feel and be able to stop.  I won’t spy for her anymore” Cas assured him.

“That’s not the fucking problem.”  Dean almost growled, still pissed at this Naomi.  “Are you okay?  Did she do anything lasting?”

Cas hesitated before answering in the negative.  “No, but a bit of what she said may be useful for you to know.  The demons are doing some sort of ritual that was found on the angel tablet.  Naomi didn’t know what, but if they have anything to do with the Alpha pack and Crowley is working with them both, then Stiles is in danger from all of them and most likely has something to do with the ritual.”

“Son of a bitch.”   This time it was Derek describing the situation, stealing Dean’s line and using it accurately.  

Not that that was bad, but this day really just kept getting better and better.  The pack up against demons, Alphas and there were angels involved.  Damn, they really needed help. 


	8. Looking towards the future we were begging for the past, we know we had the good things but those never seem to last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied. This is another short chapter. Very short, because the next chapter wouldn't work if it was cut up. Sorry 'bout that. Oh, and I've gotten another chapter written, so once more there is one more after this before more writing needs to be done. Also, this one is kind of choppy, but it supposed to be like that? To a certain extent.

The rest of the way back was mostly done in silence, with Dean only breaking it once to ask Derek if he could call Sam and ask his brother to come help.  His Alpha had said he’d think about it, but from both the emotions rolling off of him and the resignation coloring his tone, Dean knew he’d say yes when the time came, no matter how much he didn’t like Sam.  Stiles was still asleep by the time they got back to the apartment, and Cas was still refusing to let the nephilim out of sight.

It was weird collapsing into the many chairs in the apartment, and Dean winced slightly as he looked around.  Isaac, Allison and Scott had taken over the couch, Stiles and Cas were in one chair, and him and Derek were in the other.  It was really empty without Erica and Boyd.

Derek took a deep breath and then relayed the basics of what Cas had told him, informing the rest of the pack that demons may somehow be involved, and that they wanted Stiles.  Then he laid out what had been happening so far, and the information they already knew, just to get it out there so that they could start planning how to deal with it, or at least think it over for a time when they weren’t falling asleep standing up.

 “The first thing we need to do is get Erica and Boyd back” Derek concluded.  

“Can you lead us to where you found the Alphas?”  Scott asked Cas, who nodded mutely.

“However my grace is declining, more so now that I’ve given Stiles some of it.  I will not be able to burn all of them out.” Cas reluctantly added, and Dean winced at the blank tone of his voice.  The angel only ever reverted to his emotionless natural state when emotions were far too much for him to deal with. 

“So you just get us there and do what you can,” Dean started, then was interrupted by his phone ringing shrilly.  Why was that off vibrate?

A quick check showed that it was from Sam, and Dean frowned, huffing, “I have to get this.”

Knowing that the werewolves would be listening into the conversation no matter where he went, he answered the phone on the spot, greeting, “Sammy.”

“What the hell just happened Dean?  Actually, tell me where you are first, I’m coming over.”  Sam stated, the tone he always used when determined not to get any argument. 

“One second.”  Dean responded, moving the phone away from his face and addressing Derek.  “Can I tell him?  We need all the help we can get, especially if demons are involved.”

His Alpha looked torn, clearly not wanting Sam to know where his hometown was. 

“Sam’s your brother right?  If he can help us get Erica and Boyd back…”  Allison trailed off, evidently picking up that Derek was uneasy about it and wondering what issues the two of them had. 

Derek nodded slowly and Dean went back to the phone, informing Sam, “I’m with Derek’s pack right now, if you’re not going to be good with that, I’m not telling you.” 

Surprised silence came over from his brother for a few seconds, but his reply rang true.  “I may have problems with Derek, but you’ve made it clear that you don’t want me killing him, and I’ve got nothing against his pack.  Whatever Crowley’s planning is not going to be good, and we don’t need an Alpha pack running around, so ya, I’m going to do what I can to stop it without hurting innocents.  Historically out of the two of us, I’m the one who’s nicer to non-humans who haven’t killed anybody.”

Dean let out a short chuckle at the wry way he said the last sentence, tilting his head in acceptance then remembering that Sam couldn’t see him.  “We’re in Beacon Hills California, me and Derek are in room 12 of the most homely motel in town.”

Sam laughed, quipping before hanging up, “Always the best.  I’ll be there by the end of the day tomorrow.”

Putting the phone down, Dean raised an eyebrow at Derek, fully able to note the annoyance flowing through their bond.  Who knew, maybe they’d become friends after Sam met the pack, though Derek clearly didn’t believe so.

“He’ll help us?”  Scott asked, evidently trying for a statement and getting a question. 

“Yes.” Dean confirmed, “He’ll be good”

 

~*~

 

“Why is everyone freaking glowing?”  Was the first thing out of Stiles’ mouth as he woke up to a bunch of human shaped multicolored fireflies merely shining away around him. 

Seriously, what the heck?  What had even happened and why did Stiles feel like his head was going to explode?  Ugh, so not fun.

“You’re awake!”  Scott’s voice yelped from one of the glowing human shaped figures, and Stiles jerked back, manfully gasping when he realized he was sitting next to what could best be described as a pillar of light.

But it felt nice!  Holy crap, Stiles exclaimed in his head, deciding to try and burrow into said pillar of light.  It felly _really_ nice, soothing for the pounding in his head and making him feel less like he was going to turn into a frog and have all of his innards vacate the premises through his mouth in the simple act of throwing up.  The pillar of light was slightly scratchy when Stiles shoved his face into it, and he slowly realized that it actually wasn’t so much a pillar of light as a giant form of light, with more light pillaring around it.  A giant form that included wings and eyes, and a bunch of different faces and was as terrifying as it was beautiful, ever changing.  Kay, what the serious and ever loving hell?

“Stiles, no one is glowing, and what are you doing?  Do you feel alright?”  Scott had switched into that voice that reminded Stiles of Scott’s mother’s nursing voice.  He could practically _feel_ the puppy dog eyes.

Waving his hands vaguely in the direction of the Scott shaped firefly, Stiles pulled back from the pillar of light, narrowing his eyes and staring at it.  “What the hell are you?”

“I’m an angel.”  Castiel’s voice replied, and Stiles realized that each of these lights were human, not bugs. 

Whipping his head around and then backtracking to curl around the glowly pillar that he assumed was Castiel, Stiles peaked out at the other shiny figures around.  There were three a little to their left, and then another big one on their right.  What the heck.

“Stop glowing.” Stiles demanded of the figures, trying to figure out a way to tell them that their shininess was hurting his head.  More, ‘cause his head already hurt in the first place.

A shape that felt like a hand reached out a grabbed Stiles’ face, turning him back around to face the glowy pillar. 

“Because you are a nephilim you can see souls.”  The pillar informed Stiles, then continued to explain, something he was very happy to listen to.  The voice had the echoes of flutes and strings layer through Castiel’s voice, it was quite nice to hear.  Plus, explanations were good.  “You have to pull yourself fully back into your normal dimension in order to see normally again.”

“Souls?  Oh that’s cool, so is this like, the pack?”  Stiles asked, still not remembering exactly _why_ he could see souls, but enthralled by the idea all the same.  People continued to talk at him, but he ignored them in favor of examining the shiny souls.

Kay, that would mean that the glowy thing with Scott’s voice was Scott.  He was kinda pretty, a golden color with splashes of fuchsia to deep red and small touches of blue.  There was also a dark raw umber haze that two of the other glows shared, and small bits that Stiles somehow knew weren’t parts of Scott’s soul, but other peoples. 

The biggest of these bits led to the firefly sitting next to him, a glow that was bright red with gradually flashing sparks of blues, and deep greens with the lighted slivers of black surrounding them.  Allison?  The next glowing soul in line shared pieces with both Allison and Scott, instantly telling Stiles it was Isaac.  His glow was actually gorgeous, sharing the deep raw umber haze with Scott and a mix of mint green and forest blue. 

The last larger soul was the most enthralling, because it wasn’t actually one firefly as Stiles had originally thought, but two connected by a large strand of glow that mixed the two.  The base color was sea green mixed with midnight, but the part on the right had that raw umber haze with a crimson tint, and the one on the left had pitch black strands running through it with a pure white glow much like the pillar of light Stiles was sitting next to.

“Who’re you?”  He asked it, narrowing his eyes again as if that would help him be able to tell. 

“Those are Dean and Derek.  Because they have a soul bond they look like one soul when you aren’t in the visible dimension” Castiel was the one to respond, his voice softly disapproving, and Stiles understood that he wanted Stiles to what, pull himself fully into his normal dimension?  How the heck was he supposed to do that?  And why wasn’t he in the normal dimension in the first place?

A hand gripped his face again and Stiles felt the pillar of light reach out towards him, curling through him as parts of himself responded with joy.  It felt absolutely amazing, and so Stiles moved closer, or, at least, tried to, considering he was already fully smushed up against said light.  Then two large wings expanded, eyes blinking on them and startling Stiles into compliancy as the light twined itself around him and the wings flapped. 

Stiles eyes slammed shut as nausea flooded into him and he burrowed deeper into the pillar of light.  Or wait, not a pillar of light anymore, he realized as he felt textures and opened his eyes a sliver.  Tan.  Tan trench coat.  Castiel?  Oh, fuck.  Stiles jerked up and backwards, blood rushing to his cheeks as he realized that he had just been latched around the angel, utterly obviating any concept of person space that he had set throughout his life.   Still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to release the folds of trench coat that were gripped tight in his fists.  That was just, not going to happen.

“Holy shit I’m a nephilim.” Stiles squeaked, remembering what had occurred the night—day?—before.  “Oh hey, is Derek okay?”  He asked, twisting around to find the Alpha, recalling how the last he had seen of him he’d been attacked by those two Beta-Alphas, right as the other angel broke the weird little vial of light.

“I’m fine, are _you_ okay?”  Luckily Derek seemed to be fine, though concern drew his eyebrows down until they were almost meeting, something Stiles found extremely hilarious.

“Okay?  I think I’m awesome.  Why wouldn’t I be?”  Stiles was taken aback until again he remembered, right.  Nephilim.  Added grace.  Holy shit. Turning back to Castiel and almost smacking the angel with his face Stiles blurted out, “So you’re sure you’re not going to kill me?”

Castiel’s head tilted dangerously to the side, but a slight smile tugged at his lips as he replied.  “No Stiles, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Oh, awesome.”  He breathed out in relief, tucking his head under the angel’s chin and closing his eyes.  “I’m tired, and I feel stoned.  Where’d the fireflies go and why is no one glowing anymore?  That was fun.” 

The world was spinning and he was out before he heard the answer.


	9. Sometimes my feelings get in the way of what I really feel I needed to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I know I've been saying that there's always only one more written chapter before I need to do more writing, but now there's only one more not yet written chapter before the two larger pieces of writing will connect! Which means that soon there will be no more of these annoying little notes.   
> I'm not really sure about this chapter yet, but enjoy, and good day.

“Did he just pass out?” Derek asked in amazement as Stiles went limp, his eyes sliding shut. 

“Yes.  He is fine.” Cas replied, frowning down at the nephilim attached to him. 

Literally attached.  Stiles’ arms disappeared underneath the angel’s trench coat, he had somehow managed to wrap his legs around his waist, and then had burrowed into Cas’ chest.  All the while Cas had alternated between watching the nephilim fondly and staring pleadingly at Dean.  Like he couldn’t tell whether he should be freaking out over the whole nephilim thing or pulling Stiles closer.

It may have been terrible, but Derek was unable to stop himself from bursting out laughing at the innocent and wordless way Cas was begging Dean to help him.  He knew his laughter sounded choked, almost insane, but soon Isaac was joining in and the rest of the pack followed, laughing their ass’s off as Cas just sat there looking confused, a small smile on his face as if he found the humor nice but didn’t really get it.  Their laugher died down after a little bit, going straight into silence as the rush of adrenalin, the full moon, and near death experiences wore off in one last burst.  He was feeling just so fucking guilty right now that the options had become laughing like he was insane or hunkering down in a fire burnt corner somewhere and trying not to think at all. 

 “We should all get some sleep.”  He said after a while of them all sitting there, trying to figure out what to do with Erica and Boyd missing, the threat of demons and Alphas hanging over their heads, and Stiles having just woke up, spewed out a bunch of crap about glowing lights, and then fell right back asleep.  After everything that happened and before more went to shit, they all really needed rest. 

It fucking sucked that they couldn’t do anything right now, as soon as possible, but the fact remained that attempting anything while they were half dead from exhaustion after running on adrenalin for so long was just a great way to get killed.  It wasn’t a matter of won’t go running to help out or don’t want to, but that they physically can’t. 

“Can you guys stay here?”  Isaac spoke up after another stretch of silence, and Derek glanced up, nodding without a thought.

Honestly he really did want to, and was glad someone had asked.  Looking around he said, “We’ll sleep in here, Cas, are you staying too?”

At his affirmative answer Derek decided it was time to get up, asking the Beta’s where the extra blankets were as they followed, moving off upstairs.  By the time Derek got back with an armful of blankets and sheets, Dean had moved all the cushions off the couch and Allison and Scott had commandeered coverings from both their own room and Stiles and Isaac’s.  Realizing that the pack wanted to all sleep together in the living room, he felt something inside of his chest relax at the prospect of such close proximity. 

Stiles had always called the way the pack slept together puppy piles, and it was unfortunate for him that he wasn’t awake to mock everyone about it and then gleefully join in.  Derek was actually sort of guiltily pleased that the kid-nephilim wasn’t awake, as it meant that they would be able to go to sleep without huge discussion on spacing and fidgeting that ended up smacking someone in the face.  Not that Derek had a problem with Stiles, in fact he still loved the kid, just that he was too fucking tired at the moment to deal with anything other than sleep.  If he was forced to stay up he’d begin thinking, and thinking meant that he’d remember just how much this was his fault.

Thankful that Dean kept extra clothes in the impala, Derek threw on a pair of shorts before joining the general shuffling of the pack as they settled down comfortably to bed.  With the extra body heat from all the werewolves they almost didn’t need blankets, but the obvious empty spaces where Erica and Boyd should’ve been detracted from the moment.  Even so, it was a comfort to be with his pack again.

 

The next morning Derek woke up on his back with Dean on one side, Isaac sleeping partially across his legs, and Cas pressed against his other side.  Not opening his eyes yet and just listening to the collective heartbeat of the pack, he was surprised to find that so far he was the only one awake.  It was actually quite nice.  Calming.  At least until the two missing heartbeats were noticed and his mind decided to start working overtime.

Two of his pack were with five Alpha’s, but they still had seven packmates with one out of commission.  Derek really wanted to go to the warehouse district and see where the Alpha’s were staying, maybe even get Boyd and Erica out right away.  They could do it, or even just figure out a plan to do it in the near future.  Either way, they needed to get Erica and Boyd back before his mistake caused their deaths.

He had let the whole pack out to run, even knowing that there was an Alpha pack around.  Why had he ever think that two Beta werewolves together would be able to go up against Alpha’s, especially considering that they wouldn’t have gone alone either.  Two Alpha’s or more against two Beta’s.  It was really no wonder that they had been taken.  And why hadn’t Derek stayed and not taken Stiles out?  A human and an Alpha were probably the equivalent to the Beta’s against Alpha’s, Stiles having been mostly unarmed and all.  Derek should’ve known better, he should’ve kept his pack together.  He was supposed to be a good Alpha now!  Not the asshole he had been in the beginning, but even back then he hadn’t gotten two members of his pack kidnapped and a third Turned totally against their will in a way that almost killed them.  Yes, there had been Turnings that almost killed the packmate and a nonconsensual one, but this one with Stiles had been a direct result of Derek not being able to protect the nephilim.  Then Castiel had been practically falling over after healing Stiles, the angel completely exhausted.

Someone moved a few bodies over and Derek’s thought train shifted with them.  They needed to get Erica and Boyd back, but they couldn’t lose anyone else in the process.  So they couldn’t just rush in no matter how much he wanted to.  In a way he was glad he had agreed to let Sam come to town, though he was a hunter, he was on Dean’s side and would help them.  Right?  It _had_ been kind of spur of the moment.  Derek knew that Dean had been thinking about bringing over Sam since they heard about their packmates being taken, his mate always had a certain combination of emotions to him when thinking about his brother, but Derek hadn’t _really_ considered it until asked, and then went with yes because they needed help.  A couple years ago the instinctive answer would’ve been no, but now he trusted Dean completely.  And if Dean thought it was a good idea to get his brother on board, he’d go with it.  He just really hoped that he had made the right decision. 

“Sam won’t harm you or your pack.”  Cas’ voice made him jerk, and he waited a few seconds in stillness until the two other packmates touching him calmed back to sleep.

Turning his head, Derek found he didn’t need to go far to see the angel as they were fully pressed up against each other’s sides.  He could see where Stiles was on Cas’ other side, tangled with Scott but with one arm grabbing tightly onto the shirt the angel was sleeping in.  Allison wasn’t quite visible, but he noted her hand under Isaac’s neck and the edge of her pj’s beside Scott. 

Debating on whether to chastise the angel for listening in on his thoughts, Derek decided against getting upset with someone whose face was literally inches from his own and while they were in the middle of the sleeping pack.

“It’s not only Sam I’m worried about.”  Derek finally went with, speaking just as softly as Cas, though no human would be able to hear what they were saying.

The angel nodded solemnly, offering, “I will try and find Erica and Boyd while I’m gone.  We’ll get them back.”

The words rang the same as Dean’s assurances the day before and he recalled his hunter telling him that Cas was terrible at comfort.  Not wanting to delve too much into the morbid worries Derek knew Dean had been having when he said that, Derek stated, “You got that from Dean.”

The slight pause that followed would’ve been awkward with anyone else, but Cas seemed not to know it was even supposed to be.  “Both him and his brother have frequently made it known that they don’t appreciate me being honest when they’re emotionally upset, so I decided to react as Dean would instead.”  Cas said gravely, and something in the way he said it made Derek let out a small huff of almost amused laughter.

He wanted to ask Cas what he would’ve said, but the glimpses of emotion he had gotten from Dean had been enough to dishearten him.  He couldn’t lose his packmates, his friends.  They had been planning with him on rooms to build inside his house, they had worked with him, stayed with him even during the period when he was first an Alpha and terrible at it.  He couldn’t listen to the downsides or pessimistic thoughts because he couldn’t give up on them.  They had rooms planned out in his old house.

“You should knock it down.” This next statement was almost completely out of the blue and he raised an eyebrow in confusion, trying to think about what part of his thoughts Cas was talking about.  The angel expanded.  “The house you grew up in.” 

Derek pulled his head back in shocked anger, narrowing his eyes and biting out, “Why the hell would I-”

The shock factor of an angel of the Lord slapping his fingers over Derek’s mouth was probably the only thing that stopped him from snapping his teeth closed on said fingers.  That, and a hefty dose of fear regarding the aftermath of such a stunt. 

“Throughout the time that the pack has been tearing it down, you’ve been looking around and instead of seeing memories of things that you did with your family, you’ve been thinking about how Kate knew the layout of the house because of you, about how you were tortured in the basement, about how you killed your uncle there.”  Cas said, each thing he added making the werewolf flinch.  “I know you want to keep this memory of your family, but it isn’t one anymore.  You need to tear it down and build a new one with your pack.  It’s hurting you more by standing than it would be by another house being built on its foundations.  Another home for you and your pack.”

Uncertain about what to say, Derek just laid there and stared at the angel helplessly.  Everything Cas had said was true, and they both knew it.  The only problem was that the house was one thing Derek couldn’t make himself let go of.  It wasn’t just the memories that he needed to hold onto though he liked to think it was, he knew they had been blurred out by many of the worse parts of his life.  It was that he still needed that reminder of what happened when he screwed things up, and why he shouldn’t do so.  What happened to the people he lost, and he had just lost Erica and Boyd.

Cas frowned at these thoughts and Derek glanced away, unable to look at the mind reading angel.  The hand on his lips was moved to the side of his face and Cas pulled his head up so that he had to stare at him as he firmly stated.  “You couldn’t have stopped Erica and Boyd from being taken, you couldn’t have stopped Stiles from getting his grace back.  If you had sent anyone else with Erica and Boyd, they would’ve been taken as well.  If you had kept the pack inside, the Alpha’s would’ve just attacked another time while the pack would’ve resented you for locking them up.  This isn’t your fault, and you need to stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong with your pack.”

“But it _is_ my fault” Derek protested, trying to find words to make Castiel understand.  He made decisions, and they inevitably became mistakes.  The only good thing he had gotten out of his decisions in such a long time was Dean. 

The hand tightened its grip and Cas asked, “Do you think your pack is stupid?”

It was another one of those middle of the conversation statements and Derek had to try hard not to snarl or spit at Cas for it.  “No.”

“Then why, if every decision you make is a bad one, do they still follow you?  They’ve all been to university, they’ve met other Alpha’s, seen other packs.  So why are they here with you, asking you to spend the night so that they feel safe?”

And Derek had no response to that.  His pack _did_ trust him, they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t, and they even had other choices.  They didn’t blame him because this wasn’t all his fault.  This was just a moment of nostalgic depression, of forgetting that things had changed.  He may not be the best Alpha, but he tried.  He did his best, and sometimes people got hurt.  They’d make it through this, they’d work past their hardships and get Erica and Boyd back.  Plus Stiles had Cas to teach him how to be a nephilim and work with his grace, he wasn’t alone in this.  Derek would fix this, but it wasn’t his fault that it had happened.

“Good.”  Cas praised softly, a sad smile tilting the angel’s lips up.  The tone was of someone who knew they had to deliver bad news, and hated it.  “You need to trust yourself and your pack if you want to get through this.”  The angel finally moved his hand, lightly brushing the pads of his fingers against Derek’s cheekbone as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The noise of someone dropping something heavy and then cursing and flailing tore Derek back to wakefulness and he blinked, confused at the complete and momentary change.  The pack were all awake already, some of them wandering around the apartment getting ready.  After noting the table on its side and the flailing nephilim Derek deduced that Stiles had made the noise that had woken him up, though he couldn’t believe he had been asleep.

“You slept in” Scott informed Derek as the Alpha sat up, uncertain. 

Glancing around for the angel, he wondered if he had actually dreamed all of that up.  He had been so sure that he had been talking to Cas though, so what the hell happened, and why had the angel apologized? “Where’s Cas?”

Scott frowned in confusion but shrugged, “I’ve no idea, he said he need to check something earlier this morning, haven’t seen him since.  And Allison and Dean are in the kitchen” The last part he informed Derek of with the air of asking the Alpha why he was only questioning after the angel, however the Alpha ignored it. 

Luckily just then there was the noise of wings fluttering and Derek’s head whipped around to watch the angel appear, their eyes meeting straight away.  Allison and Dean loudly came back from the kitchen but Derek waited, knowing somehow that the two of them _had_ actually had that conversation, and that whatever bombshell the angel was about to drop would be terrifying.  Cas tilted his head down slightly in agreement and Scott opened his mouth to comment, looking even further flabbergasted at the apparent mental conversation the two were having. 

Never mind that a mental conversation had actually taken place, Derek flicked up a hand to pause the Beta in his tracks so Cas could speak.  “We have a problem.”


	10. Oh noose tied myself in, tied myself too tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for missing posting yesterday!! Internet was being freaking screwy, the bus schedule was a lie, my memory stick can't connect to my phone for 3G usage, the universe was conspiring against me. Many things happened. And then Sam wouldn't write, so Stiles and Castiel had a conversation instead, which came out of left field, but totally works with part of the next chapter. Awesome. Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, the second POV in this was actually the second piece of this story that I ever wrote. The first bit is later on in the story. And I actually really like this story now, after what, 10 chapters of good, eh, and meh, we have mostly good ones left. Only mostly, 'cause the ending still isn't finished, there's one connection I haven't made, and the POV's need to be broken up to make sense. But I think it's lovely.   
> Anyway, I may post another chapter tonight because this one's taken so long, but no promises. Plus, you all got like, an extra 600 words or so. So that's good, right?  
> You all have jojoba to thank for the second POV here, so I really hope they're reading this and like this chapter and the next couple. Seriously people, if you want to see something, comment! Let me know! If it fits in this story, that's great, I'll put it in. If it fits in this series, I'll put it in another story. If it doesn't fit, there is a reason that I'll possibly let you know without spoilers, and try and figure out a way to fit it in.   
> Love you all!

By the time Sam got there almost every member of the pack had been to see the newly possessed demon wolves that Castiel had told them about that morning.  They had been upset, confused, and quite amiable to another hunter who knew a lot about demons coming to help them.  Despite this and expectedly, they didn’t want Sam staying at the pack apartment and so had sent Dean, Castiel and Stiles over to the motel to greet him.  The rest of the pack would arrive shortly, and then they would get to work.  So now with little else to do as he noted Sam’s soul getting closer and closer to the motel a bit of the pack had moved to, Castiel listened to Dean and Stiles talking while focusing on Stiles’ new grace and both of their thoughts.

“Demon wolves dude!  How does that even work?  Like, they’re supposed to be separate entities, and now they’re one big bad guy, a super powered villain group that shouldn’t be here yet is and wants to kill the pack and me for some nefarious purpose.” _‘This really sucks’_ Stiles’ grace swung around his soul in fear, proving that the undertone that could be false in his voice was true fear.  Not just for himself though, for the whole pack and the members missing from it.

“I didn’t even know demons _could_ possess creatures, I’ve no idea how it works. Dean’s reply made Stiles’ soul shiver, uneasy as the authority figure on demons didn’t know what to do with them _‘I don’t know how to kill them, or if they die and are exorcized like normal demons.  I have to protect the pack from them though, I_ have _to know!’_

“Least we’ve all got anti-possession charm things right?  So they can’t possess us.”  _‘Could they possess a nephilim?  Oh God, I’m not human anymore‘_ His soul curled in on itself even as grace reached out to both Dean and Castiel.  The latter responded to it with calm through the bond, and to his surprise Dean also subconsciously replied, coddling the grace protectively as it touched him and showing to what great amount he had decided to take the nephilim underwing. 

Outwardly Stiles paused at the feeling of calm and safety that seemed to settle over him, while inside his soul and grace purred with the well needed reassurance.   He glanced over at Castiel and then his eyes quickly skittered away as embarrassment colored his cheeks.  Not knowing how to respond, Castiel just continued to stand and watch the two of them trade costumed uncertainties.

Ever since Stiles had become a nephilim and huddled up to Castiel for the time when his soul was still adjusting to the change, he had refused to look directly at the angel, acting awkward and desperately wanting to get closer with no idea how to do so.   Castiel didn’t know whether to be thankful for the distance or forlorn.  Honestly he was facing the same hesitance the nephilim was, though with unease rather than embarrassment.  Stiles was a nephilim, but he was Castiel’s nephilim.  He carried around a good slice of the angel’s grace, any angel who saw him would instantly connect the two of them.  And the little nagging side to his mind that told him that all nephilim needed to be removed was almost completely gone, disappearing for long periods of time where Castiel just wanted to wrap Stiles up in his grace in order to protect him from the world.  So perhaps it was a good thing that Stiles was enforcing distance between the two of them, or Castiel might come to insist that the bond between them became complete.

“Dean, you in there?” Sam’s voice followed a quick knock and Dean jumped up from the bed, motioning for Stiles to step back as he went over and opened the door.

Dean glanced at Castiel as he let Sam in, a questioning look on his face.  Interpreting it as a question for tests, the angel took a good look at Sam’s soul, making sure he was who he was supposed to be.  With Stiles here it was extra important for them to be secure.

At his nod, Dean relaxed and greeted Sam with a hug, “Hey Sammy!”

The other hunter wrinkled his nose slightly at the greeting and punched Dean lightly in the shoulder as he returned the greeting, including Castiel in it as well. 

Nodding back, Castiel tilted his head towards Stiles, informing Sam, “Stiles is our nephilim.”

Interest sparked in Sam’s eyes as he looked at him, and Castiel had to remind himself that it was only because the hunter was curious about another type of creature.  He wasn’t exactly sure what he thought the interest was other than that, but nevertheless he took a short step closer to his nephilim. 

“Why aren’t you ugly!  Or at least average?  Like, do you guys even _know_ anyone who doesn’t look like an underwear model?” Stiles blurted out, flinging his hand in Sam’s direction.   “I don’t even think I know many people who are average anymore.    Of course at university I do, but here it’s like there’s a convention or something.”

Stiles’ thoughts went on a rant regarding attractiveness, but Castiel spoke before he could say anything else that the angel didn’t want to hear, again moving closer to him.  “There are demons possessing the Alpha’s, we think Crowley has something to do with it.”

This new information was successful in taking Sam’s bemused attention off of Stiles, and the angel relaxed somewhat.  His nephilim wasn’t Sam’s to interrogate or examine, it didn’t matter what Stiles’ thought of the hunter.

“I thought that demon’s couldn’t possess creatures” He exclaimed, surprise clear across his face. 

“High level ones can.  With the type of werewolf these ones are, the wolf and human are almost two separate entities sharing one mind, and the demon drives out one of these halves, killing the mind and taking complete control over whichever part is left.  Usually demons will kill the creature side as it’s easier to possess a human than a feral creature left behind, but these ones are possessing Alpha wolves.” Castiel explained, halting his forward momentum before it became too obvious and reaching out with his grace through their bond instead, drifting over to Stiles and curling into his grace. 

Though before the grace and soul mix would’ve disgusted him before, now he loved the unique feeling of sliding against it.  It was comfortingly warm, far more human than the cold based grace all angels had, and with good reason.

The nephilim relaxed with the contact, the extra jitteriness and desire to ramble he had had since becoming a nephilim fading though he looked slightly confused due to the cause, glancing around the room.  Castiel almost wished he knew so that they could have a complete bond, but it was unnecessary.  Besides, Castiel thought, he only wanted the full bond in replacement for the voices of the Host he no longer heard singing through his head.  He deliberately forgot that the one sided bond he had now was a fine replacement if that was all he wanted. 

“We’ve found the warehouse they’re hiding in, but they’ve got two of the pack and we need to get them out without them getting killed.”  Dean picked up the explaining.  “The rest of the pack is coming here, they’ll be a few minutes.”

“Okay” Sam drew out the word, looking concerned as he thought.  “How many of them are there, and how many the Beacon Hill’s pack are there?”

Though Castiel knew that Sam hadn’t meant any offence and didn’t think anything of it, Dean stiffened slightly at the way he had called the pack Beacon Hill’s.  Then again, Dean probably wouldn’t understand his own reaction either if he had noticed, but Castiel knew that the hunters instincts had him subconsciously thinking that Sam should have said ‘your pack’ or ‘Derek’s pack’.  Though Dean was a hunter, due to his bonds this pack had also become a huge part of who he was.  Besides, the way they had instinctively set this meeting up was as the Alpha’s mate representing the Alpha when meeting another party for an alliance.  Due to his current humanity Dean wouldn’t understand all this, but the angel knew that his hunter wasn’t fully human and so did share some of the animal characteristics that guided some of his motions and reactions.  Granted it was more relaxed because Dean and Sam were related, but even the way Dean was standing in front of Stiles and Castiel, and had moved the latter back when opening the door belayed non-human influence.  This wasn’t the Beacon Hill’s pack, it was Derek’s.  The Hale pack, if formality was needed.

Because he had been thinking on this so deeply the angel missed Dean’s response, and from the again bemused look Sam was now giving his brother, he wondered if he should have told Sam to think of the pack as also belonging to Dean.  Since neither of them seemed offended and Stiles wasn’t gaping at anyone, he decided it couldn’t have been too bad a response and left it at that. 

Further allowing Castiel an excuse out of the conversation, the noise of the jeep pulling up was loud enough to alert all of them of the pack’s arrival.  Stiles winced and Castiel could see flashes of dents and scratches across the jeep’s sides going through his mind, something the angel recognized from when Dean worried whenever someone else drove his Impala.  The argument and following compromise that had Derek driving the jeep before they had even left the pack apartment furthered Castiel’s theory and he saw no reason to go out and check to make sure the vehicle was okay.

Stiles darted forward as if to open the door and see exactly what the angel had been thinking about, but Castiel grabbed his shoulder, holding him back from leaving.  It was completely irrational as he could see that the only ones out there were pack, but he wanted Stiles within eye range and safe at all times. 

“That the pack?”  Sam asked, not noticing the way Stiles watched Castiel in confusion as the hunter moved away from the door so that his back was to the wall instead. 

“Yup” Dean answered, _amusement_ of all things coloring his voice.

Both Sam and Castiel turned to look at him in surprised, almost alarmed at this unexpected emotion.  Derek’s hunter was watching the angel with a small grin, his eyes sliding over to where he was still holding onto Stiles.  Castiel tilted his head questioningly, his grip tightening as he tried to figure out why Dean looked like something was funny. 

“Let’s go” Dean said, making his way over to the door before Castiel could put voice to his question,

“You want me to meet them out in the open?”  Sam asked in an incredulous tone, and Castiel was reminded that humans found large gatherings suspicious and tended to flock to them to see what was happening.  If things went wrong being indoors would be better.

“Well we’re actually heading back to the pack’s apartment to talk things over.  You and me will sleep here, but the rest of us are still staying there.”  Dean explained, gesturing with his head for Sam to follow. 

They left the motel room with Dean and Sam still talking and Castiel resisted the urge to drag Stiles out with him, instead releasing the nephilim to let him walk out on his own. 

However Stiles didn’t move forward, but traded Castiel’s grip on his shoulder for taking hold of the angel’s wrist.  Giving the nephilim his full attention, Castiel tuned out the sounds of Sam meeting the pack to tilt his head at Stiles in question.

“When you were explaining the demons to Sam, why were you touching me with your grace?” He asked, and Castiel froze.  Apparently the words had some connotation because Stiles instantly started rambling.  “I mean, not that you were _touching,_ touching me with your grace, uh, not that that wouldn’t be awesome, but you’re an angel, and you guys probably don’t do stuff like that.  And not that I think about it, definitely not. Though you have to admit, it’d be kinda cool because it’s _grace_ and there would be so many different things you could do with it to make it awesome, but again I totally don’t think about things like that, because that’d be bad, and you’re an angel, and I just went in a circle, but it’s true, well, not the part that I was saying wasn’t, ‘cause that isn’t, ‘cause you aren’t, no, you know what?  I’m going to stop talking now.”

 With that his mouth snapped shut and he flushed red, looking everywhere but at Castiel, who was left to try and figure out what Stiles had just said and what he actually meant.  Deciding to look in his mind for help, Castiel caught feelings of embarrassment, curiosity and arousal, accompanied by flashes of images that it was apparent he was trying to hide.  The first emotion tangled with humiliation, but it wasn’t the type that Castiel had aggravated in Dean when the hunter was naked with Derek.  Though both times it had been unwanted, this time Castiel had not purposefully caused Stiles to feel shame as Derek had caused in Dean.  Castiel trusted Dean with Derek, but he didn’t want Stiles to be uncomfortable.

The nephilim appeared to realize during Castiel’s silence that he was still gripping onto the angel’s wrist and he pulled away as if burned.  To try and absolve Stiles of the humiliation toying the edges of his mind, Castiel caught his hand before he could pull away fully, then decided to reply to the initial question with one of his own.  “How do you know it was my grace touching you?”

“Well, I felt your grace before, and I recognized it.  Unless there’s some other angel around and I was wrong, it had to be yours.  And then even before Sam got here I think I touched your grace, and something or other to do with Dean.” Stiles shrugged, now staring intently down at their clasped hands.

“The first time you reached out with your own grace for comfort and both of us responded.”  Castiel stated, pleased with the nephilim’s good reasoning, plus it meant that he still didn’t know about their bond.  Then, nodding slowly, Castiel decided to try and answer the question he had asked.  “I am the reason that you survived becoming a nephilim again and I did it by giving you a portion of my own grace, so you are my nephilim.  Further than that, I like the feel of your soul and grace against mine.”

“Oh” Stiles’ soft exhale was barely a word, and now he did meet Castiel’s eyes, his own wide and curious, but shuttered from real emotion.

It was only the difference in the way he hid now than moments before that stopped Castiel from going into his mind to find out what he had said wrong or unexpected.  That, and the fact that he could no longer feel embarrassment coming from the nephilim.

Finally releasing Stiles’ hand, Castiel spoke calmly while ignoring the churning in his grace, “We should go.”

Stiles jumped like he hadn’t been paying attention and nodded, striding out the door and barely hesitating in the doorway.  Following Stiles out as his nephilim went to stand by Scott, Castiel took his own position beside Derek, tuning into the conversation the Alpha was having with Sam about whether or not they should talk to Chris Argent, Allison’s father. 

He refrained from looking at Stiles to try and figure out the curious emotions through their bond in favor of mentally debating which side he would take on the current issue.  When Stiles was more comfortable they could talk and Castiel would be able to figure out what he had done.  For now?  There was time.

 

~*~

 

A fluttering noise sounded like the one that usually heralded Cas’ arrival, but as the angel was less than two feet away from Derek already the werewolf shifted, whipping around to locate the source of the noise and pressing Dean behind him.  The new arrival, a woman who would look comfortable in an office, appeared with a bronze horn in her grasp and an impassive look on her face as she brought it up to her lips.

“Cover your ears!” Cas shouted and Derek found himself with his ears pressed on either side of his head without any memory of putting them there. 

Motion from all around showed that everyone else in the general vicinity had done so too, and Derek took a moment to reflect on the fact that Cas was extremely terrifying when he acted like an Alpha.  Three words and an Alpha werewolf, plus the Alpha’s packmates of a hunter, human and two Betas’, and another hunter were instantly following his commands, not even a thought to disobey.  He was completely screwed if Cas went dark side.

All thoughts of how glad Derek was that Cas no longer hated him were forgotten when his hands didn’t stop the hollow ringing note that the trumpet played.  Cursing his enhanced hearing for the first time, Derek pressed his hands tighter against his head, hoping to block out the noise. 

But just as it was beginning to echo in his ears the note stopped and the woman—angel, definitely maybe—lowered the trumpet and spoke to Cas. “How did you destroy the tether I had you on?”

“The nephilim destroyed it when I made a bond between us out of my grace” Cas answered promptly, his eyes widening as he rushed to continue, this time addressing the rest of them. “Anyone who heard Gabriel’s Horn will be forced to speak the truth when directly asked a question, everyone leave now!”

Those words seemed to break the lack of motion the trumpet had put them under and everyone darted to go, grabbing each other and scrambling away to the motel or nearby buildings as Cas flicked his angel blade into his hand, evidently about to try and fight her. 

“Who is the –” Derek paused in his movement to leave when the woman started speaking again, realizing that she still didn’t know who Stiles was and as long as she didn’t finish her next question Cas wouldn’t have to reveal that.  With that split second thought Derek barked out a command for Cas to get out, made sure Dean had already gotten somewhere safe and then attacked the woman.  He was definitely going to die, but maybe he could hold her up from questioning the others for a little bit.  Protect Stiles for a little bit longer.

Lashing out, he cut her neck with one clawed hand, the angel’s eyes flickering to him as her voice cut off and pain ripped through Derek’s side.  The werewolf twisted away, pulling himself off of her angel blade and dry-heaving at the pain.  The weapon _burned_ , feeling like it was made of cracking fiberglass that left small shards in his side.  Stifling his automatic gasp of pain, Derek tried to turn the sound into a furious snarl and managed a strangled scream. 

Before he could lunge again, Derek was grabbed from the back and dragged away, only stopping his automatic snap of fangs as he recognized the scent of Dean’s younger brother.  Sam dragged him to the nearest house and inside, not bothering to lock the door behind them as the Alpha made sure Cas was gone, the woman staring at him angrily, blood on her blade.  Derek put pressure on his side to try and abate the fire and stumbled behind Sam, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing on the couch when the hunter stopped and pulled out another angel blade from somewhere. 

“The angel won’t follow us.”  Sam assured as he painted a sigil with his own blood on the wall.  “I still think that you’re going to screw Dean over somehow, but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt for him and I want some answers.  You heard the trumpet?” Sam asked with a determined look on his face.

To his horror Derek found himself replying without having given his mouth permission to speak. “Yes”

Sam gave one sharp nod and then breathed out slowly.  “Have you ever hurt Dean.”

“Yes” Shit, shit, shit.  Sam was going to find out everything him and his mate didn’t want him to know. 

From the further narrowed eyes and way Sam’s stance changed at Derek’s answer, he wondered if maybe a Winchester would be responsible for his death after all.  The stab wound was healing, but not fucking fast enough. Damn angel swords

“How did you two become mates” Was Sam’s next question

This time Derek was a little more prepared and had an ambiguous answer ready.  Stalling before he had to tell the worst truths by telling lesser ones.  “I knotted him”

“Did he want it?” Sam asked, sounding like he _should_ have exasperation in that statement for Derek’s cryptic answer, but was too focused and angry to put it there.

“No”

Sam took a step closer to Derek with his answer, rage replacing the previous determination.  “You forced him? What else have you-How have you hurt him?  List.”

“Chronologically or alphabetically?”  He tried to distract the spell the trumpet had put on him with a counter question as an answer, but to no avail as more words poured out.  “Yes.  I’ve choked him, I’ve scratched and bit him, I lose control of my wolf when fucking him, I carved a triskelion into his hip, I raped him and knotted him at the same time-” The terrible list went on, but luckily Derek’s phone went off with Dean’s ringtone of vibrates and the Alpha took the excuse of answering it, knowing Dean would ask his name in a question to stop this flood of information Derek was unwillingly giving out.  Not that that would stop Sam from reacting.


	11. You're an angel with an amber halo, black hair and the devil's pitchfork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't edited, but I don't have time to do so, and I kinda want to get it out there before I leave and don't come back to a computer for quite a while. However on the other hand this is a very long chapter, as the next one will most likely be shorter. So fair's fair. And I will come back and edit this later, so it might change a little bit.

As soon as Derek yelled at Castiel to get out the angel flew, grabbing his nephilim and reappearing in an apartment near the motel but next to the window so that he could still see what was going on outside.  Both him and Derek had heard the horn, but Naomi wouldn’t ask the werewolf who Stiles was, nor would she follow him when he got away.  Castiel looked out the window at the exact moment that Derek was stabbed and he instinctively spread his wings in panic, preparing to take flight in order to protect the werewolf. 

A hand grabbed his shoulder and a voice yelped, “Nope, nuh ah, no flying back there.”

“Derek” He informed the voice with a hiss, all of his attention on the Alpha below as he let out a cry and twisted off the blade.

“Sam’s got him, no worries.”  Now he remembered his nephilim, and he reached up to grab the hand still on his shoulder, watching Dean’s brother as he lunged forward, grabbing Derek and pulling him away from Naomi. 

Of all the people to help the Alpha while he was wounded, Sam had not been one he would’ve chosen.  Not that he had anything against the hunter, in fact he was quite fond of him, merely that Derek had heard the horn and Sam might kill him for some of the answers he gave to certain questions. 

But since he was at least out of Naomi’s way now, Castiel let Stiles pull him back, going over the possibility of death by hunter.  Changing it up so that he was the one dragging Stiles along, Castiel stopped inside the nearest windowless room, unsheathing his blade and drawing it across his wrist before he started to paint the angel banishing sigil on the wall in blood.

“Hey, we still don’t know what that’ll do to me, are you sure that’s a good idea?  I mean, not that I always have the best ideas, just that that might not be the best one? ‘Cause I don’t know how to fly and all” Stiles asked nervously, fidgeting beside the angel.

Compelled to answer Castiel replied easily, “You will be the one activating it if Naomi comes here.  It is the best idea with one of these.”

Stiles gaped for a few moments before blurting, “But then _you’ll_ get banished.”

“It’s the better option.”  Castiel said distantly as he pulled out his phone and tried to work his way around the buttons.  Giving up quite soon he thrust it at Stiles, ordering “Text Dean and tell him to call Derek to make sure he’s okay.”

“Wha, why?”  Stiles asked, obeying even as he questioned.  “You do realize that you could just call him yourself, and werewolves can heal pretty fast, so I don’t think he’s too bad off.  Why are you so worried?  Not that you _shouldn’t_ be worried, I just want to know if there is something extra worrisome that I should be worried about.”

“I’m worried that Sam will attack or kill him.”  Castiel responded, sheathing his blade again and physically moving Stiles so that he was standing right beside the sigil.

“What! Why would Sam kill Derek?  He seemed so reasonable and non-murderous hunter type”  Stiles protested, accepting the manhandling without comment, though Castiel knew if there wasn’t something else more interesting going on he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it.

“Derek is under the influence of the trumpet Naomi blew, which forces those who hear it to speak the truth to any questions they are given.  Sam will ask him something to the effect of how Derek and Dean’s bond came to be, and he will find out that Derek raped Dean.”  Castiel said, remembering how that had been one of the first things Sam had asked when he found out about the couple. 

Complete silence came from Stiles and Castiel turned, tilting his head to the side as he watched the nephilim stand there and gape.  “Dude you can’t, you can’t just _say_ stuff like that!”

Frowning, his head tilted further.  “Dean already told you what happened between them.  It shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“You know what, uh, just, no, never mind.”  Stiles shook his head, blinking and still looking uncomfortable.

Deciding not to question Stiles further, Castiel sat back to wait in silence.  It wasn’t long however before Stiles started fidgeting, and then blurted out, “You heard the trumpet too, so you’re under the whole truth thing as well.  Do you want to, I don’t know, trade truths?” 

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel asked, “What type of truths?”

“Anything” Stiles answered, settling back against the wall and grinning at Castiel. “For instance, what is your favorite color?”

“Green” Castiel responded, smiling slowly, glad to have the easy speaking back for the first time since Stiles became a nephilim.  Trying to think of unimportant questions, he asked, “When you learn to fly, where’s the first place you’ll go?”

This question made Stiles jerk back, his smile dropping, and Castiel deflated, wondering what he had done wrong now.  But then Stiles was shaking his head, reaching out and patting Castiel’s arm.  “Oh, don’t look like a kicked puppy, I was just surprised ‘cause I forgot that I can fly.  Umm… probably a rainforest somewhere, I’ve always wanted to go to a rainforest.  Or, oh!  I know!  One of those huge ice cave’s in Alaska.  Those are freaking awesome.”  Stiles grinned happily, shivering in delight.  Then he looked back at Castiel.  “What’s with the trench coat?”

Castiel glanced down, acting on reflex as he tugged at it to smooth out.  “My vessel was wearing this when he consented to me, since then I suppose I’ve grown used to it.” Stiles nodded like this was an acceptable answer, so Castiel asked another question, moving onto a more serious topic.  “You’ve always wanted to stay human, are you still content now that you’re not?”

“I guess so, I mean, I didn’t want to become a werewolf for reasons and such, but being a nephilim isn’t all that bad.  Honestly not much has changed since I haven’t had time to learn much, but I think it’s cool so far.  Seeing souls and all.” Stiles said after a moment of thinking.  Then he nodded very minutely and narrowed his eyes at the angel.  “Why did you save me even though I’m a nephilim, and why am I _your_ nephilim.  Just ‘cause you saved my life doesn’t mean it belongs to you, or you’d say the same thing about the rest of the pack because you saved them.  OR Derek at least, when you killed the Alpha that was going to kill him.”

“Because I like you, and would be upset if you died.”  Castiel could answer the first question right away, but though he was compelled to answer the second, he needed time to come up with a response that wasn’t immediately clear to him. 

He had always put possessive pronouns on those under his charge, the long list of one, Dean, but he supposed that he had been expanding the list of his own ever since he had stopped thinking of Sam as little more than an abomination.  Now the list of those he had charged himself with protecting contained Dean, Sam, Derek, and Stiles.  But Stiles was on the list in a slightly different way than the others, or rather, more so than them.  Castiel had always felt the compulsion to be extremely close to Dean though he had seen little reason to do the same to Sam, despite feeling that he was also one of Castiel’s charges.  Earlier on when Castiel had been speaking with Derek while the Alpha was asleep, the angel had again felt that need for closeness, going so far as to reach out to Derek.  With Stiles the need for contact was much greater than the others, as proved by the fact that he had already repeatedly curled and twined their grace’s together past the point of necessity. 

Wondering how to put this in a sentence, Castiel let the spell the trumpet had caused speak his thoughts for him.  “Derek, Dean, and Sam are also my self-imposed charges and I call them mine, but you I would consider different in the way I wish to be close to you, and possess your grace and soul completely.”

He wasn’t exactly happy with those words and frowned, trying to think of how he put that better.  Before him Stiles stood up and moved closer, so that took first precedence in curiosity.  The nephilim at least looked like he understood what Castiel was trying to say.

“I’m just, going to…” Stiles trailed off when he was directly in front of him, so close that Dean would’ve probably complained about personal space. 

Castiel’s attention was drawn down to the nephilim’s mouth as he sucked in his bottom lip and then released it, closing one hand around the back of Castiel’s neck.  Moving his eyes back up to meet Stiles’, the angel stood and waited for whatever was about to happen.  Apparently that was the right thing to do, as then Stiles leaned in, his lips touching the angel’s.  Castiel drew in a soft breath of surprise, his eyes automatically snapping shut as Stiles took the opening to delve his tongue into his mouth.  Moving on muscle memory, Castiel responded, tangling their tongues together easily and placing his hands on the nephilim’s hips.  This felt wonderful, and when Stiles’ hand somehow made its way into Castiel’s hair and tugged, he couldn’t stop a low moan of pleasure.

After a few more moments of this, they parted and Castiel stared at Stiles in awe as the nephilim panted like they had been doing something far more energetic than kissing. 

“Wow” Stiles breathed, a wide smile splitting his face even as nervousness poured through his mind.  “So that was okay?  Not going to give you cause to smite me?”

“That was more than okay, and gives me no reason to smite you.”  Castiel responded instantly, wanting more and so leaning back in to taste Stiles’ lips again.  After keeping a nephilim alive, consorting and having a relationship with one would not make the price any worse.  The cost for saving a nephilim was death, the cost for relations with one was the same.  Castiel had died a few times already, but he had enough sins that this one was nothing in the grand scheme to heaven, not that he would do things any differently if it had been.

He could’ve done stood and kissed Stiles for a long time and been perfectly happy, but movement on a different plane of being made him stiffen, turning to look in the direction it had been.  “Naomi is gone” He informed Stiles.

“So can we get back to the kissing?  ‘Cause that was freaking fantastic.”  Stiles whined, pulling a little on the angel’s hair.

Looking back at Stiles, Castiel regretfully shook his head.  “I have to make sure no harm has come to Derek first.”

Stiles released his grip on him, and he mirrored it, letting go of Stiles’ waist and back and not knowing when his hands had gotten there.  There was still a great deal of uncertainty blooming through his grace, so Castiel ran a hand through his hair to draw his eyes back up, promising, “Later”

Not only did this dispel some of the uncertainty, but Stiles broke out in another wicked grin, repeating what Castiel had said.  “Definitely.  Later.”

 

~*~

 

A mix and absolute fury, disgust and protectiveness flooded Sam at Derek’s words.  Every single thing the werewolf had said had been worse than the previous.  Sam just couldn’t imagine his brother not standing up to that, so what the _fuck_ had Derek done to stop Dean from leaving or killing him?

“Dean.  For now.  I’m with Sam.” Derek spoke into the phone, cutting through the tirade of information Sam had never wanted to know but couldn’t forget know that he did.  Wait, Dean was on the phone?

“Give me the phone” Sam demanded, holding out his hand and then speaking loud enough for Dean to hear him over the line.  “Dean, we need to talk.”

“Okay” Derek answered shortly at what Dean replied to Sam’s demand with, and the werewolf tossed Sam the phone, leaning back against the wall and still pressing on his side where the angel stabbed him.

“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam asked as soon as he brought the cell to his ear, Attempting to make sense through his anger Sam added, “He raped you, why is he still alive?”

What reason could there even be?  Dean killed monsters, and not only was Derek a werewolf, but the things he had done to Dean would put him in the monster category even had he been human.  Sam’ brother had never shown any hesitation in killing things before, what the hell was so special about Derek?  Why wasn’t Derek dead already, and how soon could Sam fix that?

  There was a sharp intake of breath from the other side and Dean rushed to assert, “Don’t even touch him Sam. A hellhound bit him, he went feral and it wasn’t his fault.”

Sam choked on an incredulous laugh, staring at the werewolf as he watched Sam and evidently listened in on their conversation. “He went feral? And that just means that what he did was okay?  How about the other stuff, that he, losses control with you and carves you up?  That he’s not even safe?”

“What the hell did you ask him?”  Dean hissed, a huff of air momentarily fizzing the speakers before he continued. “Listen, Sam?  Yes, Derek is fucked up, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m just as fucked as he is.  _I_ asked Derek to cut his mark into me, _I_ wanted and _I_ suggested it.  He is perfectly safe and in control of his wolf, he only lets it out with me when I’m okay with it. 

“You’re lied to me before about protecting yourself from him, you don’t have to tell the truth so I’m going to be asking Derek to confirm this.”  Sam warned, still holding one dim strand of hope that Dean wasn’t still lying about wanting what Derek had done to him.  However the hell Dean _did_ want something like that.  Especially after being raped

“Yes, I did ask him, and fuck, the rest was blanket permission Sam” Dean cursed,

“And him raping you is just okay now?”  Sam asked, going back to the point that stood out the most.  How could Derek have done such a thing to Dean and act like he cared about Sam’s brother?  Dean had been to hell, it wasn’t much of a mystery what went on down there.

“I don’t blame him, okay?  It’s the same as if he had been possessed.  He wouldn’t have done it if he had been in control.”  Dean insisted, “The beginning doesn’t matter anymore, I want him now.”

The fact remained that Dean had lied to Sam about Derek before.  He had lied when Sam asked him whether he would stop Derek from doing something Dean didn’t want, so it wasn’t up to Dean anymore.  Wanting to close his eyes and rub his head, Sam instead turned to Derek and asked, tilting the phone so Dean would be able to hear.  “Is there anything he wouldn’t let you do to him?” 

“No, there isn’t.” Derek looked challenging with that answer, sitting up and flashing his eyes red.  “But there isn’t anything I wouldn’t let him do either.”

Except that Dean wouldn’t try and do anything that Derek didn’t want, while he would do everything the werewolf wanted. _That_ Sam now knew for certain.  As already proved, there was a huge imbalance of power here, one that greatly favored Derek.

“Listen, Sam-” Dean was cut off on his side as Cas’ voice came through, telling the older hunter that ‘Naomi’ was banished and she hadn’t found out who Stiles was. 

A thought struck Sam and he deliberately asked Derek “How much does Cas know about this?”

“He knows everything, he healed Dean afterwards and since then has appeared sometimes when I’m doing something that hurts Dean.” Derek’s reply was so unexpected that Sam just stared at him for a moment. 

Cas knew?  Passing on from the surprise at Dean not reacting, how the hell would Cas not do something about it?  Especially if he had been the one to heal Dean from what Derek had done, _especially_ if he had seen Derek’s abuse.  All this, without any consequences. 

“What I told you about hurting Derek still stands by the way” Dean’s voice came through the phone, back on the original conversation Sam wasn’t letting go of. 

It took a second for Sam to get it but then he felt even more betrayed, hissing, “You’re putting him first even after what he did?”

“I’m putting his safety first.” Dean protested “And it was only four days before you met him that he, raped me, so my answer is definitely not changing this far away.”  Dean said, his voice as uncomfortable as it was exasperated, and Sam had definitely noticed the hesitation in his sentence.  “You don’t have to deal with it, it doesn’t affect you.”

Sam just gaped, staring at the werewolf who had removed his hand from the still bleeding wound in his side and subtly stiffened into a position he could easily jump into motion from.  Four days.  Four days after being raped by an Alpha werewolf Dean had let said werewolf bite his throat, touch him, and—if the quip Sam remembered Dean making even though he tried to forget was true—have sex with him.  Defended him from his brother.  What. The. Fuck. 

Honestly, Sam had no idea what to say.  Absolutely no clue what he was supposed to say or do in this situation.  Oh he knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to kill Derek and get Dean very, very far away from all these wolves, but Dean had also made it _very_ clear that anyone who brought harm to the Alpha would be met with his wrath.  So taking away that option, Sam wanted to warn Derek away, tell him that if he ever hurt Dean again there would be consequences.  Except again, Dean had asked Derek to hurt him, was apparently a masochist.  Something Sam never needed to know about his brother and never wanted for him.  Even being a masochist was okay as long as he wasn’t in a violent relationship, which this one with Derek evidently was.  Maybe it was a result of hell?  Sam had heard of abuse victims who couldn’t get off from anything that wasn’t abusive, maybe that had happened to Dean?  Maybe that’s why he stayed in a situation where there was domestic violence.

“Sammy, I can literally hear the wheels in your head turning.  If you want to psychoanalyze me later, I will make fun of you and not listen, but for now, play nice with Derek and forget you ever asked him any questions with the fucking truth spell.”  Dean ordered, taking a breath and adding, “Also you need to stop talking because Cas and Derek are no longer the only ones listening in on our conversation.  Come back outside.”

There were a few noises of protest from the other end of the phone and Sam admitted temporary defeat, spitting out a _fine_ and snapping the phone closed.  Sam had previously made sure not to show it until he was completely sure of Derek, but he had been becoming more accepting of the werewolf.  He had dated a werewolf of the other strain that ripped out hearts, he had been in a relationship with Ruby, the demon, he had been friends with Amy, the kitsune, the list went on to show that Sam had been with his fair share of supernatural creatures.  So ya, he wasn’t going to judge Dean for being with a monster, it happened.  But the situations and monsters were also so completely different.  Madison hadn’t wanted to live as a monster and asked Sam to kill her, Ruby had turned out to be a traitor and so he had had no problems holding her up for Dean to kill, and Amy had only hurt people to save her son, something he had convinced Dean of and still not managed to keep the other hunter from murdering her.  And yet Derek was a threat and had seriously violated Dean without paying for it.  Without anything more than gained permission to hurt Dean again. 

Which was something Sam couldn’t accept.  Dean may have accepted it, but Sam just couldn’t do that.  So yes Dean appeared to have forgiven Derek, but that was really freaking unlikely.   Anyways it didn’t matter, Sam was going to kill Derek to protect Dean, and eventually his brother would understand why he had to.  Either way, Dean couldn’t stay in an abusive relationship, and because he wasn’t going to leave, Sam would make the choice for him.

“What the hell did you do to him to stop him from killing you?” Sam asked, his tone flat.  This at least, he needed to know first.

Derek’s mouth quirked up in a repressed smirk as though he just couldn’t stop himself from toying with Sam.  The hunter had seen monsters he was about to kill react to him with forced amusement, and decided that’s what this was too.  “I didn’t do anything to him.  Dean loves me, and neither of us should have to explain ourselves to anyone.  You wanted out of the ‘hunting life’, you got out, Dean wanted to continue, so he did.  I don’t owe you anything, including answers.”

“Since you’re still alive I know you explained yourself to Cas, well I’m Dean’s brother and I deserve to know how you got him to stay.” Sam spat in reply, shying away from any thoughts of Dean and love, in the off chance that his brother had actually used that word. 

‘Cause Dean just didn’t do love.  Ya, he had loved Dad and Bobby as family, he still loves Sam and probably Cas, but a werewolf who Dean had known for such a little time?  How the hell could that be love?  So it probably wasn’t, and Sam took a step forward, almost enjoying the way Derek went stiff and wary, the smirk disappearing. 

“Derek explained himself to me because he acknowledges me as a higher Alpha than both himself and Dean.”  Cas’ voice made Sam jump and spin around, surprised at how he hadn’t noticed the angel’s arrival.  He sounded as emotionless as ever, but there was disappointment in his gaze. “I can assure you that your brother is as safe in this relationship as he wants to be, and that Derek means him no ill will.  I would also appreciate it if you would stop forcing him to answer questions, as I can’t remove the trumpets effects and otherwise I will have to remove one of one from the other’s presence so he doesn’t have to.”

“Damn it, I know I left Dean, but he’s happy that I’m happy, he’s fine with it!  That shouldn’t mean that I can’t know what’s happening with my own brother!” Sam finally exclaimed, fed up with how little he knew about his brother after they had practically lived in each other’s back pockets for their whole lives.  Both Dean and Cas had been keeping this from him.  Cas had even stood beside Derek!  Didn’t he understand that the relationship the werewolf had with Dean wasn’t a good one?

“Have you ever considered extending the same courtesy to Dean?” Cas suggested calmly, and Sam frowned in confusion.  The hell? The angel obligingly expanded “Derek and Dean had problems, but now Dean is happy.  Can you not be happy that he is?”

Completely taken aback, Sam paused.   Derek had said that Dean loved him, and now Cas was saying that Dean was happy.  They both seemed like they believed what they were saying completely, that Dean was actually content with this.  It was just, how could he _be_ content with something like this?

Castiel started to herd him and Derek out of the house and Sam let him, resigning himself to not killing Derek today and following behind the angel who had placed himself between them.  Was Dean happy?  Come to think of it, he certainly seemed happy, even in such a situation.  He looked healthier, and smiled more genuinely when Derek was around.  Maybe he actually _was_ happy.  Against all odds, could Dean Winchester have actually found happiness with an Alpha werewolf?

Not caring to be subtle, Sam watched Dean as the werewolf made his way out of the house they had hid in and over to Dean.  Sam’s brother was running his eyes over the Alpha much like he used to with Sam after a hunt, checking to make sure no injuries had been sustained and then if they had, fixing them.  After the familiar check, Dean’s face lit up in a smile and he pulled Derek in for a hug and a kiss, the Winchester PDA equivalent of a hugely intimate declaration of love.  Sex was easy, it was always the connections that Dean found hard.  But here he was looking at the Alpha like Sam had looked at Jess.  Holy fuck, Sam thought, inhaling sharply.  Dean was in love with Derek.  He actually was. 

This made things much more complicated, and Sam _definitely_ needed to talk to his brother. 


	12. We’re goin' down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the giant break between postings, two days which never used to be a large break before I wrote this story, but here is an update. I'm updating two chapters today, next one in like, five minutes or so. I still haven't edited the last chapter, but I hope to do so shortly, and will let you know.

Stiles really wasn’t sure what to do with his life after kissing Castiel.  Pretty much and totally because holy frick, he had just _kissed_ Castiel.  Like full on mouth to mouth with tongue involved went at it with an angel.  Not only that, but it had been fantastic, and he definitely wanted to do it again.  The only bad part of the whole thing had been that it ended, but that was excused because it only ended because Cas needed to make sure Sam didn’t kill Derek, which, let’s face it, would suck more than ending the kiss.  Derek was one of the people in Stiles’ life who wasn’t allowed to die, along with his father, Scott, Isaac, Erica, the list went on, though not too far.  But anyways, probably the only thing Stiles could think about now was that he had just kissed an angel and lived to tell the tale.  Not only that, but said angel had promised that there would be a later.  That’s right.  _More_. (Cue triumphant laughter)

Now however, what Stiles _should_ be thinking of was the conversation that was taking place right in front of him as the pack crowded into the motel room Dean and Derek had been staying at for the past while.  Originally they had been going to go back to the pack apartment, but with Naomi’s recent arrival they didn’t want to lead her straight there.  That was the reasoning for Scott, Allison and Isaac at least, since Stiles knew that the small distance wouldn’t matter, and there were wards on the apartment that hid the place from the sight of any angels save Castiel.  The real reasoning lay in the way Sam glared daggers at Derek, who was curled around Dean on the bed and looking proudly back at the hunter.  Even though Cas had destroyed most of Stiles’ higher brain functions, he knew enough to remember what the angel had spoken of as for why he was extra worried for Derek, and knew even more that allowed Stiles to connect the dots that said Sam had found out.

This thought stole Stiles’ smile away, and he wriggled around so that he was coincidentally closer to Castiel whom he had managed to get to sit up on the counter with him.  Stiles hadn’t known how to react when Dean first told him, _that_ , and now he still had no idea.  Honestly he would’ve thought that Dean would’ve reacted more like Sam was reacting now, but the fact remained that Derek was still alive, and Cas probably wouldn’t have had any reason to protect him in the beginning.  And looking at their souls—which was still freaking awesome to be able to see, come on, _souls_ —he knew that Dean was as completely devoted to Derek as the Alpha was to him.  He knew it was true, but Stiles couldn’t imagine Derek doing something like that, even trying to look at the situation the way he had seen Derek when the Alpha first lurked around in every shadow found in Beacon Hills.  The fact that he had been feral helped, but nevertheless, Stiles just couldn’t figure it out.  Luckily, he didn’t have to.

‘Cause he had Cas, and there would be none of _that_ happening.  Stealing a glance at the angel beside him, he backtracked on that thought—not the one about _that_ , the first part of the thought.  Did he have Cas?  They were going to have a later, and he had had him then, but was this just a onetime thing?

As if responding to his thoughts—which he probably was—Cas turned to him, his voice low as he whispered, “Not a onetime thing.”

This made Stiles grin brilliantly, not even to be diminished by Scott’s intervention of , “What?  What’s that got to do with anything?” as he craned his neck to be able to see them from the desk the two Beta’s and Allison were sitting on. 

Continuing to smile, Stiles replied innocently, “Nothing!”

“Well what are your thoughts on the matter?” Evil Allison asked, one of her eyebrows raised.  Oh how cruel, he knew that she knew that he hadn’t been listening. 

Still, he decided to contribute to the last part of the conversation he had been paying attention to, namely a tablet or something.  Probably not a computer tablet, but hey, why not?

He opened his mouth to start a lecture on the pros and cons of an IPad, but Castiel cut him off with a flick of grace “It would be best to allow Argent to get some other Code following hunters involved in this, especially if we intend to get the tablet back as well.”

Oh right, freaky _angel_ tablet thing.  Cas had kinda explained it, but Stiles hadn’t really been paying attention.  Seriously, this whole nephilim thing completely destroyed the limited attention span Stiles had been graced with for his human life.  Not to mention the whole Cas thing, which was freaking insane.  But that was okay, insanity’s good.  Fun and all.  Well, actually, insanity won’t really help them get Boyd and Erica back, so Stiles should ask Cas to teach him how to fly.  Being able to fly would help them get those two back, ‘cause as of now he was pretty much useless on the whole nephilim count.  Couldn’t smite people, couldn’t fly, he _needed_ to figure out how to be a nephilim, if only for Boyd and Erica’s sake. God, he really hoped they were alright.

This sad moment he had dissolved into was broken by abrupt silence in the room, and Stiles jerked his head up to see what he’d missed.  Everyone was sitting and subtly watching Allison who was phoning someone, though considering the whole pack was staring, it really didn’t turn out subtle. 

“Dean, can I talk to you?”  Sam broke the silence before whoever was on the other end picked up, and he made his way over to the door, clearly indicating that his brother should follow.

Looking exasperated, Dean agreed and the two of them left without another word.  This new development split the attention of the group between looking out the window as the two hunters crossed to the other side of the street to talk, and continuing to watch Allison.

“Hey dad” She greeted suddenly and the mystery of who was on the other side of the phone became clear. 

 For some reason everyone now focused in on the conversation, but Stiles just couldn’t’ concentrate.  After trying for a while he gave up and glanced out the window.  While he was sure he shouldn’t have been able to make out the hunters since they were far enough away to be out of range of werewolf hearing, he could actually see them quite well if he focused.  It wasn’t like his peripheral vision was really clear, but more like if he looked at them for a few moments they’d suddenly come into view.  Dean looked aggressively defensive and Sam looked pissed off, but Stiles was pretty sure he already knew what they were talking about and so really didn’t want to snoop.  Instead, he glanced around the motel room, testing this weird sight thing.  Staring hard at Dean’s shadowed bag, he was able to see outlines of things in it.  After a while, those things transformed into a couple of knives and some clothes, he could even make out the decorative carvings on the one knife!

Huh, he thought, scanning over the rest of the stuff in the room, this was really freaking cool. 

 

~*~

 

As Dean followed Sam out of the room, he decided that life was really unfair.  He had gotten over what Derek had done to him months ago, and really easily too, considering the whole hell thing and what had happened.  But now of course Sam wanted to drag it all up again.  Okay, so Dean would probably be reacting the same way if he found out someone did something like that to his brother, but he had already decided it wasn’t really rape, just kinda sucked—again, decided that the day after—and he couldn’t understand why Sam wouldn’t just drop it!

Sam began with his name in a very serious tone as soon as they were out of earshot, but Dean cut him off, hoping to end the conversation before it really had a chance to begin.  “Okay, first off Sam?  I love Derek, we’re mates, I’m not leaving him.  Second, I don’t know what all he told you or what you asked him, but yes, there is blanket consent for anything he does.  When we became mates, okay no, not so much, but he was pretty freaking upset by it after he realized what happened.  I’ve long since forgiven him for that and forgotten, ‘cause pretty much two little differences and I would’ve been totally on board.”

If the first part of his statement flabbergasted Sam, the rest of it ended up with him looking like a beached fish.  It was unsurprisingly comical. 

After stuttering around for a moment, a mix between a pleading and angry look crossed Sam’s face, “Dean, you have to know this isn’t healthy, Derek’s hurting you, he’s an Alpha werewolf for fucks sake!”

“There is nothing that you can say that will make me change my mind on this one.”  Again Dean tried to stop the conversation, but it only made Sam’s face go hard in a way that he knew meant his brother was planning on harming or killing his mate.  The threat made a rush of protective anger go through him and he stepped forward, narrowing his eyes.  “Not only do I care about Derek, but Cas does too.  I don’t want to fight with you, but if you ever try and hurt him, either him or one of us will stop you.   I’m bonded to him, I can literally feel him in my head, his emotions, how well he’s doing, where he is, so don’t think I won’t know.  I love you Sam and you’re my brother, but he’s my mate.  I’m not giving him up.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak again, probably argue some more, but Dean had had enough.  “Right now there’s a pack of Alpha demon wolves running around town and they have two of my pack, so this conversation?  Not high on the list of importance.” He said.  The noise of a SUV pulling up was like a life saver, and he continued, “Now there’s Argent and his hunters, so we should really go back in.

Pausing in his immediate move to go back across the road, Dean turned instead and stepped closer to Sam as he changed themes and begged his brother to understand, “Derek’s the Alpha, but as I’m Alpha mate, they’re my pack too.  You can have your issues and anger at Derek, but I need you on my side.  Please Sam, just let it go, until we’ve killed the Alpha pack at _least_ , if not indefinitely.”

His brother shut his eyes tight, his face twisted in one of contemplation on something he wasn’t particularly fond of.  But when Sam looked back at him, he knew he’d won.  “Alright Dean”

Letting out a huge breath of air, Dean grinned, slapping Sam’s shoulder as they moved to greet Argent and get back to the pack.

 

It had then proceeded taken them two hours to decide what to do, and even now not everyone was happy.  Those who were especially not happy included Isaac, Castiel, and Stiles.  Because seeing as Argent had indeed brought a few of his hunter buddies, they had decided that those three needed to stay behind in case the Alpha’s weren’t all at the warehouse.  While it would’ve been awesome and very useful to take Cas, the fact that these demons had an angel tablet meant that they could either have new fun and exciting ways to kill him, or they could use him like Naomi had been doing.  Plus the fact that his grace had been disappearing even steadier ever since Naomi released her hold on him.  Stiles was being left behind because he wasn’t exactly top notch at being a nephilim, and seeing how often he spaced out it would be dangerous for him to try and fight.  Then Isaac because a pair had already been captured, and three of them would fight better than just the two.  

So now they were just hashing out the last details, deciding how they’d attack and where.

“I still think it’d be better for us to go in first, throw a couple of bombs, back out, and then you could go in after.”  One of the hunters who had been going on for the same plan over and over whined. 

“Except that you’ll be throwing wolfsbane bombs, and we’re fighting against demons.”  Derek glared, tension and impatience buzzing so thickly inside him that Dean was surprised that the humans couldn’t smell it. 

“Ya, wolf-demons, how do you know it won’t work?”  The hunter’s buddy countered.

“Demon-wolves” Stiles interjected from where he had been pouting with the rest of those not allowed to come.  Though the other two were doing much better jobs at pretending not to pout.

The hunter sneered and Dean took a moment to wonder if he was like that or had been.  It may have been because they were meeting with a wolf pack, but seriously?  These guys had freaking issues.  Of course it was a bad idea to be throwing around wolfsbane when fighting with werewolves, they didn’t even know if it would do anything to the demons, which Dean quite firmly doubted.  Not to mention that they already had weapons that they could use against the demons.  Granted, not many, as the Argents had historically had little to do with demons and Dean only had enough for a few of the pack to have his weapons, but they were making do with knives covered in salt, sigils carved in metal, and holy water balloons, courtesy of Stiles and absolutely hilarious with their neon colors. 

“If you’re bringing wolfsbane, put it on your knives, and don’t attack any of us.”  Allison firmly stated, bringing another flash of negative emotion from Derek.

It wasn’t against her, just the fact that he didn’t want such things around his pack when they could be seriously hurt with them.  A salt round will sting like hell and need to be cleaned out before it can heal, but wolfsbane was very specifically for killing werewolves. 

“Fine.”  Argent finally set his metaphorical foot down, nodding to Derek and shutting the hunters up.  “We can agree to this and going in groups.”

“Two groups with equal numbers of our pack and you guys, Sam’ll count as one of us” Dean quickly looked around and decided.

Four of their pack were going plus Sam, and Argent had brought along four hunters, the numbers worked well.  One of the hunters let out an angry snort and glared at Dean, causing Derek to shift slightly closer and possessiveness to roil inside him.  Frowning, Dean decided that he would have to calm his mate down before they left to fight, and he could think of a few ways to do so.  It may not be beneficial to himself, but that was okay if Derek was good.  Besides, the hunters were just angry because a Winchester was mates with a werewolf and joint head of a werewolf pack, where they had heard of Dean’s family as hunting and killing everything.  Dean didn’t really have a problem with other hunters not liking him—considering how many bridges his dad burnt while looking for Yellow-Eyes he was kind of used to it—so he just stared back challengingly and ignored all attempts for a fight this particular hunter had tried.  Dean had already figured out what he was going to do to calm his mate down and this hunter would probably see the after effects of it, so he could just deal. 

“So, first group goes in, throws the water balloons, second group comes in as the first group retreats, they have short range weapons, attack in the confusion.  Archers and people with guns should all be in the first group so they can fall back to somewhere and shoot, while the rest of their group protects them.”  Sam laid down what they had planned out so far.  “As soon as it gets too crowed for them to safely shoot, they go looking for the angel tablet, Erica and Boyd.  They get out, call Cas who will bring Isaac and Stiles to pick them up, and then the rest of us kill or exorcise as many demons as possible.”

There was some general nodding, and then they started to pick the groups, something that made Dean think of kids playing a sport, but filled with a lot more disgusted glances and murmured arguing than he was sure they used.  Granted though, as awesome as kids were, they sure could be mean to each other.  Then again, he wouldn’t ever have that problem as him and Derek couldn’t have kids.  Well, unless Cas could use his grace to change biology or there was some weird thing about being a werewolf, which Dean quite doubted and the image it presented made him cringe away.  But ya, in this permanent relationship that he wouldn’t give up for the world, he was never going to have children.  That was a, slightly depressing thought.  The year he had lived with Lisa he had loved hanging out with Ben and doing his best at being the kid’s pseudo father, it had been fun.  Dean could deal though, it wasn’t like he had even thought of children while hunting, it was just the part of an apple pie life that he really wanted.  Ah well, he’d live.

Dean stopped thinking about this topic he had little idea as to why he had been thinking about in the first place just in time to catch the ending notes of conversation, where they all agreed to go off and meet on a certain street in the warehouse district in half an hour, ample time to get everything ready.  With a last statement from Derek and confirmation from Argent they all stood.  He knew it had to be Stiles rubbing off on him, but the only thing Dean could think as they left was, ‘there was great mulling around as the pack waited for the hunters to leave’.


	13. And it's been a long time, which agrees with this watch of mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, two chapters were updated today. Also, I really like these next few parts of the story, which I may have told you all before. Anyways, after this prepare for lots of Castiel/Derek bromance :D

After most of the hunters had gone except one acceptable one who was in deep discussion with Sam and the one who had been provoking Dean, the pack worked on making water balloons and getting weapons, though none of the stress and anger dissipated from Derek even with the methodic task.  So of course during the whole time Dean stayed mostly quiet, planning on how to get his Alpha to calm down some.  When they were finally finished and the pack got up to load everything into the jeep, the impala, the hunter’s car and Sam’s minivan—yes, a minivan—Dean grabbed Derek’s arm and pulled him into the nearest alleyway, ignoring any odd looks they got as he went with his shortly thought out plan.  His Alpha frowned in confusion but Dean just pushed him back up against the wall, falling to his knees in front of him and unzipping Derek’s jeans.

Leaving three packmates behind and working with frustrating hunters was making Derek irritate and angry, unfocused.  His mate would get hurt less and would fight better if he was paying more attention to the fight than his anger, so Dean was going to do whatever he could to get Derek to release it, one way or another.  In any case, Dean loved being used by him, so it wasn’t like it was some kind of hardship.

“They’ll hear” His Alpha warned, but detracted from the statement by spreading his legs and allowing Dean to pull his jeans partway down his legs

The hunter smirked in reply, nuzzling and biting at Derek’s hip bone, “Well then you shouldn’t be so fucking hot and I’d be able to keep my hands off.”  They both knew the main reason Dean was doing this was to calm Derek down, but attraction _definitely_ played a big role. 

“Or you could control yourself past your submission kink, fucking whore.” Derek said, his voice breathy though he tried to hide it as Dean pulled his cock out.  Dean’s mate was feral enough normally in sex, but even more so when he was angry.  Claws and words, little was off limits.

“You wouldn’t want me to” Dean replied, then swallowed his Alpha down completely. 

Derek wasn’t yet completely hard, but Dean had become absolutely fantastic at taking his cock and he let his throat relax around Derek as he thickened.  His Alpha laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back to tell Dean that he wanted the hunter to do all the work, and so he greedily swallowed around him, pulling back and bobbing his head.  It was slightly odd that Derek didn’t want to fuck his mouth right away, but it just meant that this would last longer.  They didn’t really have time for it, but Derek would get whatever he needed.  Moving his hands from Derek’s thighs, Dean fondled his balls, cupping them and rolling them in his palms.  Leaving one hand to do that, he wrapped his other around the base of Derek’s cock, pulling back so that it was no longer going down his throat when he dipped forward, instead his hand taking care of that last bit.

Flicking his eyes up, Dean continued his ministrations and just watched Derek, his Alpha staring down at him with a lovely mix of possessiveness and desire painting his face, the anger still there but mixed with pleasure.  Argent had looked disgruntled at the way Dean had bared his neck to his Alpha, but he really couldn’t give a fuck what other hunters thought.  And yes, less than a year ago Dean would’ve never dreamed of doing something like this, of loving to give his submission to _anyone_ let alone an Alpha, but there were very few people he listened to with such personal matters and even then he wouldn’t give Derek up for anything. 

The noise of a car starting filtered into the alleyway and Dean felt Derek wind a hand through his hair.  Again instinctively knowing what his Alpha wanted, he let his hands fall back to their original positions on Derek’s thighs and relaxed his throat.  Now his Alpha would release his anger on Dean which the whole purpose of the whole thing, so he was good with it.

“So pretty like this” Derek murmured, stopping Dean’s motions completely and running his thumb over the hunter’s stretched lips, dipping one in alongside his cock. 

Dean groaned at the praise but stayed completely still, waiting for what Derek wanted to do.  He didn’t have to for long before his Alpha was removing his thumb and starting to fuck into Dean’s mouth, harshly pounding into his face.  After a few seconds to get the rhythm, Dean started to swallow around Derek each time he pressed in, encouraging his wild movements.  Sharp pricks of pain stung his head where Derek was gripping him, but Dean ignored them, only sparing a though to hope he wouldn’t bleed too much.  Sam would get upset if he saw blood.

The tightening of his Alpha’s balls was the only warning Dean got before Derek was spilling down his throat, shoving himself deep and stilling there.  To help, the hunter swallowed consecutively, milking Derek and trying not to choke as his body demanded air rather than come.

“Stop” Derek ordered after he finished coming and Dean froze, forcing himself to stay still even with the way his Alpha’s cock cut off all air flow.

Dean could feel his eyes watering and he was unable to stop himself from curling his fingers in, gripping hard to try and ground himself.  This was something Derek didn’t do very often, but early on Dean had figured out that his Alpha loved feeling him choke around him, staying in until he began to soften.  Whenever he was angry at something or too wound up he would get into asphyxiation and any sort of pain play.  Derek’s fingers at his throat brought him back to the present and Dean opened his eyes, barely remembering having closed them.  His Alpha pressed down where he could feel himself inside Dean and the hunter tilted his head slightly so that Derek had better access to his throat, not even trying to stop the way his muscles fluttered and tightened in protest, though he didn’t pull back.

“So good, you’re doing so well” Derek praised softly, his words comforting while his fingers were cruelly digging in, claws reddening skin

Small spots were dancing in Dean’s vision before his Alpha decided to pull out, and he gasped in breath, resting his forehead on Derek’s stomach and taking in great lungful’s of air, trying not to cough.  He didn’t manage it, digging his fingers into Derek’s legs as he sputtered out hacking breaths.  His Alpha never stayed in that long, usually pulling out half hard still or right after he became soft.

Derek’s voice reached his ears and Dean relaxed at the whispered encouragement and praise, his Alpha’s hands gentle again as they petted through the hunters hair.  When he had finally caught his breath Dean pulled back and stood, holding onto Derek’s shoulders in order to not fall at the rush of blood to his head.  The long loss of air had made Dean go soft and unfortunately Derek didn’t look like he was going to do anything to change that.  Oh well.

His mate laughed suddenly and Dean tilted his head questioningly.  Derek shook his head and grinned in amusement, running his fingers over Dean’s lips as he explained, “There’s no way anyone’s not going to be able to tell what you just did.  You look like you got punched in the mouth.”

Dean licked his lips self-consciously and Derek caught them in a kiss, chasing his own taste through Dean’s mouth and sucking on his tongue.   When he pulled back he drew Dean’s head down to rest under his chin and they stayed there for a few seconds, the hunter’s heart beating wildly but his mate now calm. 

“We should-” Dean cut himself off, appalled at how scratchy his voice was.  It sounded like he had gargled rocks. 

More amusement flooded through Derek and Dean glanced up at him, glaring mock disapprovingly.  “Don’t laugh at my misery”

Derek proceeded to do the opposite and laughed, his happiness bringing a grin to Dean’s face as well. 

“I love you so much” Derek declared, pressing a kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

The hunter chuckled, pushing himself back and ignoring the harshness of his voice as he retorted, “I love you too.  Bastard.”

Derek just shook his head and the two of them made their way out of the alley to where the rest of the pack and the hunters who hadn’t left yet were waiting.  The wondering moment Dean had over the clear distinction of the two in his mind and concern over which he belonged to was quickly over at the way the wolves nearest avoiding looking at them.  The humans looked a mix of suitably confused and concerned, and when Sam took a step towards them and saw Dean, his face turned scandalized. 

Unable to stop a bark of laughter at his brother’s realization, Dean gave him a shit eating grin as he stopped a ways away from them and studiously looked everywhere but at Dean or Derek.

“Can we go now?” He asked, his tone long suffering and grossed out

“Why you didn’t have to wait for us” Dean replied cheekily, refusing to feel awkward over how debauched he must look and sound.

Derek laughed softly beside him and Sam momentarily covered his eyes with his hand, his mouth working as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what.  His obvious awkwardness was hilarious, and although Dean was tempted to let him stew in the moment while everyone else found the sky or concrete fascinating, he took pity. 

Clapping his hand on Sam’s shoulder and moving around him to the impala, he was unable to resist one last parting quip.  “If you want though, since you’re all still here, you can ride with us”

It was usually only in hunts that Sam moved that fast, but before Dean had even finished his sentence the other hunter was by his car, shaking his head firmly in denial.  The others took this as a signal that they were allowed to go and none of them looked at the impala or its two riders as they took off to their various methods of transport, stopping their too loud conversations that had evidently been started to avoid listening to the previous going-on’s in the alleyway.

Slipping into the driver’s side, Dean shut his eyes quickly at the small head rush he got and blinked one open to watch Derek get in the car beside him, looking extremely pleased with himself.  The moment was a bit odd to be thinking it, no romance or anything, but holy _fuck_ Dean loved his mate. 

 

~*~

 

A slight nudging at the back of his mind chased Derek away from staring at Dean, admiring the puffy redness of his lips and the overpowering smell of _Derek_ that clung to him.  He had been thinking of how perfect Dean was for him, but the nudging unease stole his thought.  Frowning, Derek followed it to his pack bond with Isaac, focusing his attention there and trying to figure out if there was something wrong with the Beta they had left behind.  A sudden spike of alarm and short sharp pain had Derek’s claws coming out instantly, his eyes flashing red.

“Derek?”  Dean asked, concerned.

“Something’s wrong with Isaac” Was Derek’s distant reply as he pulled that pack bond as far as it could go to the forefront of his mind, just behind the bond with Dean.  “I have to go”

Thankfully Dean didn’t argue, pulling over to the side of the road and idling the impala. “You want me to come with?”

But Derek was already shaking his head.  Dean needed to go and help the others find the tablet, Erica and Boyd.  Technically Derek should be going, but Isaac was currently the one in pain, and he needed to be protected before he was taken.

“I’ll join you guys after I’ve got Isaac and checked up on the others.”  A flash of concern went through Derek for Stiles and Cas, but though the angel was losing his grace, he should still have enough to protect the nephilim.

Before he could get out Dean was reaching over and grabbing the front of Derek’s jacket, pulling him into a kiss.  His hunter broke it off quickly and ordered, “Don’t get yourself killed”

The side of Derek’s mouth quirked up in a smile and then he pushed open the door, once again being pulled back as Dean shoved his demon killing blade into his jeans. 

He lifted an eyebrow in concern, not wanting to leave Dean defenseless, but his hunter just shrugged, “You can give it back afterwards”

Giving a nod of acceptance, Derek practically fell out of the impala and partially shifted as he ran, the noise of the impala’s engine fading away as they both took off in separate directions.

The pack bond wasn’t strong enough that Derek could tell exactly where Isaac was, but he knew the general direction, partway in-between Stiles house and the preserve.  Weaving through obstacles, Derek wished that he could send emotions to Isaac like he could to Dean, it would help him to calm his Beta who was slowly warring between panic and defiance. 

It took him under a minute before he was bursting onto a dirt street, barely needing any time to take in the situation as he leapt over Isaac who was huddled on the ground and slammed into one of the demon Alpha’s who had thrown him there.  The creature, Ennis, went down easily with its surprise, but quickly got with the program, slashing its claws across Derek’s chest and leaping back out of his reach.  Derek snarled angrily but waited, forcing Ennis to make the next move. 

Isaac was moving around behind them, but he only noted it in the background of his mind as Ennis sprang, attempting to rush Derek into backing up.  Instead he slipped forwards, feinting with his claws and kicking out and knocking the creature off balance for a second.  Isaac took Ennis’ slip up by the horns and darted in, swiping his claws along his back so that he had to arch outwards to stop his spine from being torn. 

The both of them against the demon Alpha proved to be enough until Ennis managed to get under Isaac’s guard and tripping the Beta, claws going for Isaac’s throat.  Derek let out a howl of fury and moved completely on instinct telling him he needed to do _anything_ to protect his packmate.  It was only when Ennis’ windpipe was crushed between Derek’s teeth and the creature started to gurgle out laughter that he remembered the need for a knife to kill the demon.  Yanking it out, Derek didn’t give the creature a chance to get away, still holding it’s throat as he sank the blade into Ennis’ back. 

Dropping the body as it flashed orange beneath its ribcage and the creature gurgled and died, Derek spat out a mouthful of demon blood, remembering the few times when Dean had mentioned Sam’s previous addiction to the stuff.  For all that his mate defended him from Sam, he was extremely hedgy when it came to talking about his brothers faults, something Derek could understand. 

“You okay?” Derek asked Isaac, stepping forward and running his eyes over his Beta to check for any damage. 

“Ya, I’ll be good” Isaac replied, his eyes wide.

Made sense, there probably weren’t too many death threatening happenings in university.  Then again since they were all werewolves and tangled up in the supernatural, ‘not too many’ didn’t mean anything. 

Derek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and offered the other to pull Isaac up. “What happened?”

Isaac grimaced slightly, nodding at Ennis’ body and stepping closer to Derek before he responded, “I don’t know, I thought I smelt Erica so I left Stiles with Cas, but it was just him here.”

Responding to Isaac’s unspoken need for contact, Derek reached out and cupped his hand around the back of his neck, trying to convey support.  All werewolves were tactile, and as Alpha, Derek not having had any contact—verbal or physical—with the pack in such a long time before was not the healthiest thing.  It didn’t matter that the pack had wanted to go off and explore their worlds, or that Derek had felt lonely and found Dean, it still just wasn’t too good.  The pack needed its Alpha, and it’s Alpha needed the pack.

“We should go check up on them, it could’ve been a distraction” Isaac suggested, pushing back into Derek’s hand like a cat.  “Thanks, by the way”

Not knowing whether to smile at the intuition or frown about the uncertain smell coming from Isaac that was directed towards Derek, he chose to do neither, squeezing his Beta’s neck once before nodding and going over to drag Ennis’ body off the road and make it look like a wild animal attack.  Why one of the demons-wolves wasn’t with the others was kind of disconcerting

“How’s university going?” He asked Isaac awkwardly, ignoring the tearing noises that accented his words as he clawed at the stab wound

“Good, it’s fun.” Isaac’s reply was just as stilted, and Derek was reminded of why he didn’t do small talk.  Apparently Isaac actually had more to say and wasn’t just terrible at it like Derek was, however, as his Beta continued in a rush.  “What are you going to do when we come back?  Like, with Dean and all.”

Derek paused in his mauling, tilting his head slightly but not looking at Isaac yet.  “You’re coming back to Beacon Hills after?”

“Yup.  We’re all taking at least one course related to the pack.  Of course they’re hidden and under different names, mostly online, but we want to come back to be a pack again, once we’ve learned a lot more about what’s out there.” His Beta said, acting slightly like Stiles in his rushed speech. 

“There are courses that have to do with the pack?”  Derek asked incredulously, trying to imagine what type of courses those could be.

“I’m taking a few architecture courses, but also ones related to protection and defensive techniques against creatures and magics.” Isaac expanded, shifting nervously until Derek went back to moving the corpse.  “So what are you going to do?” He repeated

“I don’t know” Derek shrugged, wishing he were able to give Isaac a better answer.  “I haven’t talked to Dean about it, but I’d like to come back”

He would love to come back here if his pack was here, but Dean was so used to moving around and hunting that the Alpha wasn’t sure he’d agree.  Dean might grow bored if he stayed in such a small town like Beacon Hills.  Without the pack Derek only had his partially rebuilt house tying him to the city, and any conversations about what to do with that when the summer ended had been cut off, filled with pauses because both of them had ideas that they were too afraid to speak of in case the other didn’t share them.

Isaac was still fidgeting however and Derek got the sense that he wanted to approach a topic that was either non-related or only kind of related.  Standing up, he waited for the other to gather up his thoughts and speak. 

“Dean’s a hunter, and you’re hunting with him, mates, what’s-” Isaac cut himself off and then met Derek’s eyes, plaintively asking, “ _Why_?”

Honestly, Derek had expected this question quite a while previously, and would’ve thought he’d get it from Erica or even Allison rather than any of the others.  Erica was gone and Allison hadn’t asked though, so he supposed it made sense to be from Isaac.  Completely innocent in his question, but sounding like a child asking his parent why they had gotten remarried or moved on.  A weird analogy, but perhaps an apt one with Derek being his Alpha.  Dean was definitely the mother in the situation though.

“We didn’t really mean for it to happen at first.”  Derek started haltingly, wondering how to go about this. 

After Dean had revealed to Scott that werewolves had knots, he had needed to explain the process of mating to all his male Beta’s, and there wasn’t really a good way now to say what had happened between them, other than skirt around the issue.  Lying through assumptions.  It truly wasn’t Isaac’s business in any case, but Derek found himself wanting to reassure the Beta who had always been and still was his favorite. 

“But we both decided to work with it, and he listens to me” He continued, shrugging again.  “We only hunt creatures who’ve killed humans without good reason.”  That had been a touchy thing with Dean, but eventually Derek had been able to set up times when killing would be okay.  “And Dean’ll let the others go.  We decided to work together, I love him.”

Now it was Derek’s turn to shuffle nervously, unconsciously scuffing his foot against the ground and stilling it before steeling himself and looking up at Isaac.  The considering look he received made him even more thankful that it hadn’t been one of the girls to ask him, as then he would’ve been met with doe eyes or comments on how adorable he was.  It wasn’t even a sexist thing, Erica had totally mocked him with them back when he had been dating Stiles.  Come to think of it, Scott might’ve given him doe-eyes at that statement too, once he had gotten over Derek’s hypocrisy, he had actually warmed up to Dean, reminding the hunter slightly of his brother though he’d never say it out loud. 

“We want you to come back” Isaac said after a few seconds.

Derek nodded, “So do I”

He knew that he might be portraying a picture of it only being Dean’s choice, but he knew that this was something they had to both share part of in the decision making.  Truth was, he had no idea how Dean would be like in a domestic setting.  Sure he was doing well at their motel room, but Dean had spoken of the ‘apple pie’ domestic life and said it hadn’t worked out, though Derek didn’t know the conditions that ended it.

“We should go.”  Derek said after he had finished moving Ennis’ body and it looked like Isaac had nothing else to say.

His Beta nodded and they took off back in the original direction Derek had come from, running towards where they had left Stiles and Cas.  Even before they reached the place he knew something was wrong, listening in and only finding one heartbeat and the ozone scent of Cas.  Stiles wasn’t there.

Racing through the front door and almost breaking it down in his haste, Derek skidded to a stop to find Cas standing in the middle of the room, eyes closed and looking like he was concentrating.  As soon as Derek and Isaac were in the room the falling angel drew his blade and turned, bringing the weapon up and falling back into a position like he was being attacked. 

Upon recognition, he stilled, sheathing the blade and speaking, his voice concerned and afraid. “Stiles’ is gone and I can’t feel him.  I don’t know what happened, he went outside and now he’s gone.”

“Can’t you fly to him?” Derek asked, the nervousness of the angel spreading to him and his Beta

“The bond’s being blocked and because he doesn’t have it on his side he can’t show me where he is.” Castiel replied, biting his lip. “They must have wards against angels”

“What bond?”  Isaac looked confused and Derek realized that the only ones who knew about the bond Cas and Stiles shared were himself, Dean and the angel.

Cas had just opened his mouth to reply when his eyes widened and he disappeared, a gust of displaced air the only thing to show he had ever been there.


	14. One wing isn't even enough, it wasn't even enough, to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I reread this chapter and was surprised to find that there are a few scattered parts I'm not happy with. Huh. Well, that's not important. What is, is that I have an outline for the ending--though still not the end-end page or so, haven't quite figured that out--and it shall be written. Good day.

Taking one step back in a stagger, Castiel was horrified to find himself back in the white room with Naomi. 

“The demons have had the angel tablet for all this time you’ve been doing nothing, and now you send humans and monsters to get it so that they can destroy us all?”  Naomi hissed practically as soon as he had appeared, all pretense of her normal calm gone

Straightening and narrowing his eyes, Castiel attempted to follow the change in thought from worry over his nephilim to what Naomi was speaking of.  His voice was cold when he replied.  “The tablet is better in the hands of humans and werewolves than with demons.”

“You know that an angel should have it.” She retorted, “It should be in heaven”

“It shouldn’t even exist” Castiel countered, anger flooding through him for a second.  The tablet _shouldn’t_ exist.  No matter who had it, all the angels would be in danger.  What good there was to be found on the tablet wouldn’t exactly counteract the bad.  It had caused so much pain already

“What do you mean it shouldn’t exist?” Naomi blinked, looking caught off guard

Castiel had the very human desire to snort in incredulity, but held off in favor of answering.  If he could make Naomi continue along this line of thinking long enough, he might be able to find a way to escape.  Like the other times something blocked him from flying away, but perhaps he could use his bond with Stiles to pull himself back to Earth.   No matter that he couldn’t tell where Stiles was, he may be able to ground himself anyways.

“It doesn’t matter who holds the angel tablet, there will always be the chance that they will get a prophet to read it and find a way to kill us all.  I don’t know why the tablets were created, but considering what the demons are trying to do, the angel one is too dangerous.”  Castiel had made many mistakes with his kin in the past, but he wished no harm upon them.  As he spoke he took a hold of his bond, hoping this worked so that he could go back to finding the nephilim on the other side.  “Lucifer showed that there are those of us who wish harm upon each other, no species is free from corruption.”

The bond was free, a hole in whatever was stopping him from leaving.  For some reason Naomi couldn’t touch anything to do with Stiles.  Focusing on this, Castiel spread his wings in preparation for flight. 

“The demons gave your nephilim its grace back to kill it, they need his heart.” Naomi spoke before Castiel had a chance to leave and he froze completely, waiting for her to continue.  She did, her tone warning and disgusted.  “You’re falling Castiel, the fact that you’re helping this abomination is destroying your grace even faster than the way you’ve cut yourself off from heaven is.  You won’t be able to protect it for long, but as they want it dead, I suggest you keep it alive.”

When no more information seemed to be forthcoming Castiel pressed, “How do you know?” 

Normally he would ignore any taunts or goading thrown his way, but this was Stiles.  If Naomi knew why the demons wanted him then Castiel needed to find out as well.  Stiles needed to be protected at almost any cost, baring only the lives of Dean Winchester and Derek Hale—because the hunter would never forgive Castiel if Derek died and the angel could’ve stopped it.  Stiles was _his_. 

But Naomi merely straightened, her cold mask of distain coming back as she spoke down to Castiel, “It’s one of the three trials.”

With that she made a dismissive flicking motion and Castiel was thrown from the room, none of the unnoticed absence of before and so landing hard and stumbling slightly.

“Cas you okay?”  Derek was the first to greet him back, reaching out and putting a steadying hand on the angel’s shoulder, his voice urgent. “Where did you go? 

Isaac had also moved closer in concern and Castiel spared only a moment to wonder at the way the Beta trusted the angel because Derek did.  It was quite odd how Castiel’s life was progressing, he definitely blamed Dean.  Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. 

“Naomi pulled me back to heaven but I don’t know what she wanted, is Dean okay?”  This last part he directed to Derek, letting a thread of grace slip into the werewolf’s mind when he took milliseconds too long in answering.

Concern spiked through Derek and he grabbed onto his bond, finding confusion and irritated resignation, all the emotions that came with fighting, but little that would be extra cause for alarm.  With that found and ignoring Derek’s spoken response Castiel turned to thoughts of Stiles.  The nephilim was still unreachable but now that he knew they only wanted him to kill, he needed to be found soon as possible.

“They’re going to kill Stiles” He blurted, stiffening and closing his eyes to better concentrate.   He couldn’t tell where his nephilim was, but could still feel his surface emotions through their bond.  Fear, recognition, desperation and anger.  An oily taint that spoke of demons close by. 

“The demons?  But he didn’t go with the others, how’d they get him?” Isaac protested, the Beta instantly on high alert

“They must’ve known we were sending most of us after them and moved,” Castiel spoke his thoughts out loud, the tightening of Derek’s grip on his shoulder showing the Alpha’s worry.  “From what he’s feeling they definitely have him.”

“Shit” Derek cursed softly, his eyes widening as he turned to Isaac.  “They were going to take you as bait by giving you Erica’s scent, but even with Ennis dead they somehow managed to get him anyways.”

It didn’t matter how the demons had planned it all out, all that matter was the fact that they had Stiles, and were going to kill him.  With this terrifying train of thought Castiel opened up their bond completely, allowing himself to sink to the floor as he tried to see through their bond.  It was incredibly hard for people to move across bonds, but for supernatural entities and vessel-using creatures like Castiel, it could be done.  The basic logistics of it was that the angel was pouring his grace across the bond, using his own formlessness to merge with Stiles.  If they had had the strong connection that Dean and Derek had—one that mixed both their souls together until to any supernatural creature’s eyes they were one person—this would be easier. 

As it was, Castiel poured as much of himself as he could through their bond and managed to catch a glimpse out of Stiles eyes, of burnt walls and crumbling concrete.  Then the bond decided it had been stretched too far and threw him back, hissing and spitting in pain.  Ignoring the pain that came along with it, Castiel sent more of his grace through the bond in a shield, protecting Stiles from being killed.

“Where is the nearest fire damaged house?”  Castiel asked before the room had stopped spinning, dimly realizing that the only reason he hadn’t completely face planted was that Derek was holding him up. 

Castiel absolutely despised this drawn out loss of his grace.  It wasn’t like the time he had carved an angel banishing symbol into himself and a quick and complete decline, but it was quick enough that each time he tried to do something he found himself reacting more and more like a human would.  As much as he could he fed grace through their bond, curling himself around Stiles while keeping his consciousness and mind in his own vessel.

“My house” Derek answered.  Yes, that would make sense, it had looked like the style of the place. “They must’ve just moved there, ‘cause we’ve been in and out for days.”

“Isaac, you need to go to the warehouses and tell the others to head over there.  It doesn’t matter if they get the angel tablet back if Stiles dies.  And tell them he’s one of the trials.  Erica and Boyd might be there too, ‘cause we couldn’t find them anywhere else, they’d have brought them as bargaining chips.  Don’t stop for anything.  Give this knife back to Dean” Castiel had never been so grateful that Derek was Alpha, and as the room came back into focus he could see Isaac leaving at the Alpha’s command.  

“We’ll take the impala.”  Derek spoke under his breath as if talking to himself and Castiel flinched as pain exploded in the grace he was protecting Stiles with, that part of him going supernova. 

Distantly he realized that he was screaming and he snapped his mouth shut, focusing on keeping his grace and himself alive.  Stiles must’ve been stabbed with an angel blade, something Castiel only now realized he hadn’t been ready for.  Theory and possibilities were very different from reality.  Not that that would stop Castiel from taking the wound for Stiles, perhaps even dying for him.

“Cas, Castiel. Come on, we’ve got to go.  We have to help Stiles.”  Coming back to himself for the third time in such a short period, Castiel blinked his eyes open to find Derek about a foot away, his hands cradling the angel’s face as he talked him into moving.  “You can’t die, ‘cause we need to get Stiles out of there.”

Castiel honestly wasn’t sure he’d make it to Derek’s house to get Stiles out, but the ferocious determination in Derek’s voice forced him into motion.  Standing up and holding onto the Alpha so he didn’t fall, Castiel attempted to reach for the calm that all angel’s had when fighting.  For the first grab it was out of reach, but as he adjusted the parts of his grace that he was protecting Stiles with, he was able to sink into a more angelic mindset, marking Derek in his mind as another angel so the werewolf wouldn’t be an automatic threat. 

“Samandriel’s at the house too, he was probably the one to stab Stiles but my grace stopped it from killing him” Castiel’s voice was completely impassive now and from Derek’s double-take the werewolf had definitely noticed

Nevertheless he asked no more questions and Castiel dealt with further physical and emotional attacks on Stiles with his own emotions in complete ice, feeling only physical pain and little emotional.  He couldn’t even separate the attacks anymore they were so constant. 

Time drifted and the two of them had gotten into the impala and were speeding down and around roads before Castiel noticed they had moved, only brought back to the present by the way the vehicle was suddenly pushed off the road, skidding on gravel and smashing the back into a tree.  Derek swore and jumped out of the car, shifting as Castiel staggeringly followed him around the wreck. 

Two forms materialized from the dim light of the evening and the angel recognized two white eyed demons, knowing instantly that him and Derek wouldn’t come out on top if they fought. 

“I hope you realize that angel-face and you won’t get out of here alive unless we let you,” The one in a male vessel—Aiden, he thought its name was—spoke, addressing Derek.  “So why don’t we all just keep on heading in the same direction.  Really, we won’t even stop you, just think of us as an escort.”

Castiel noticed Derek open his mouth as if to argue, but then shock passed over his face and his teeth made an audible click as they shut.  So something was also wrong with Dean.  Everything in Castiel wanted to look into Derek’s mind and see what it was, but he knew that he didn’t have enough grace to spare, even for something as important as Dean’s safety.  The angel had betrayed Dean and they had become slightly distanced, but the life of Castiel’s charge would always come first.  The fact that Derek wasn’t looking murderous or frantic said that Dean wasn’t in immediate threat of dying anyways.

“Good choice” The other demon, Kali smirked, taking their silence for acceptance, resigned though it was. 

They herded Derek and Castiel away from the wreck of the impala and distant irritation slipped into the angel’s mind, stronger now that Stiles was apparently not being attacked anymore, just wallowing in horror and grief.  The grief definitely solidified Derek’s theory of Erica and Boyd being with Stiles, but unfortunately it also didn’t give much hope for them both being alive anymore.  Had Castiel not been still in a calm fighting mindset, that would’ve brought him sorrow as well, he had thought fondly of those two werewolves. 

Out of the corner of his eye Castiel saw Derek stumble slightly and he instantly moved closer to the werewolf, pulling Derek’s arm over his shoulders and taking some of the Alpha’s weight.  As his bondmate was no longer being attacked it only made sense for the angel to support Derek in whatever was happening with _his_ bondmate.  Derek glanced at Castiel gratefully and pressed himself fully against his side, leaning against the angel but with a tension that showed he would be ready to give support in vice versa if it became necessary.  With absolutely no knowledge of what the Alpha’s were planning with where they were taking Castiel and Derek, they _had_ to be ready.

 

~*~

 

After dropping Derek off in the middle of the road, Dean and the others had made it to the warehouses unimpeded, the hunter worrying over his mate but pleased to find no cause for huge alarm through the bond.  Upon getting to the warehouse the plan had generally gone well, the first group going in, throwing the water balloons, fighting with knives, all that jazz they decided on.   

The first sign that something was really wrong definitely should’ve been the fact that none of the demon wolves were there, replaced by a bunch ton of regular demons, but Dean had been too distracted by Crowley showing up to notice.  Then, as demons, hunters and werewolves fought and Scott yelled that Erica and Boyd weren’t there, he had been too distracted by staying alive. 

Now, with feelings of awkwardness coming from Derek in the background and Sam to his side, Dean was just starting to notice the lack of multicolored eyes.  Not that it did much difference in how they were doing.  Seriously, where the hell had Crowley gotten all of these expendable demons? 

Dodging another one and shoving it back into Sam who had a weapon that could kill demons, Dean caught a glimpse of Allison and Scott who were fighting together around the angel tablet, the latter grabbing it from an exorcized demon and backing away as she became their new target.  He only wondered for a second if he should’ve let Cas come with them before a shot rang out that Allison barely dodged, the bullet hitting a demon behind her instead and killing it instantly.  It couldn’t have been the colt, so apparently Crowley had gotten a demon killing gun from somewhere.  Hopefully it only killed demons, though Dean somehow doubted that.  You know, the whole _Crowley’s_ _gun_.

Dean had no idea why a non-descript demon had held the tablet in the first place, but he could tell from the way that Crowley shot his way through the demons, humans and wolves in frustration that it was the real one.  Which meant that he had to get over to Scott and Allison to help them against Crowley.  The momentary alarm and feeling of fighting from Derek was the only reason that he didn’t regret haven given his knife away. 

Pulling out a water balloon he ran towards the two of them, slipping through the fighting to chuck the balloon at Crowley just as the demon aimed on his packmate. 

It sent the shot wide and he grabbed Allison’s arm, hissing through the din, “Come on, we need to get you out of here so we can call Cas”

He met Scott’s gaze who nodded and the three of them jumped into the flurry around them before the king of hell had a change to fully recover.  Even so they didn’t make it far before Scott was crying out from a shot that opened his shoulder.  Not knowing what these particular bullets would do to a werewolf, Dean internally panicked both for his packmate and the way Allison slowed, trying to pull a pain wracked Scott along. 

Dean went to grab Scott’s other shoulder but then Crowley was there again like a bad idea, and he stayed blocking Allison, unloading the clip of his gun into the demon despite knowing it was useless and wishing that he had some of those bullets with devils traps carved into them or something.  Crowley frowned like he was annoyed and flicked his fingers, sending Dean flying across the room.  He fell to the ground and was momentarily offended that Crowley hadn’t even bothered to hold him there.  Rude. 

The shot at Allison now that she was uncovered was taken by Scott as he threw himself up and his girlfriend out of the way.  In the saving of life the tablet dropped and Crowley moved forward to pick it up.  Allison whitened as she attempted to drag herself and Scott away at the same time as getting the tablet but Dean shouted for her to leave it, sending her scrambling out of the way. 

There was the sound of wings and a woman appeared in the space they had just vacated above the tablet.  It was almost funny how the noise of feathers managed to cut across the fighting, but Dean could hear it perfectly, just as loud as the next shot from Crowley’s gun that went directly through her well ironed suit.  The angel stumbled back and Dean didn’t know whether to be upset by the way the wound glowed. 

If the sound of her arrival hadn’t alerted those around that something was new, the illumination show starting was definitely visible to all.  The angel looked down at her chest and then further to the tablet, leaning down and picking it up even as she bled grace.  Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw a frankly shocked look on Crowley’s face, but his eyes were glued to the dying angel.  As she straightened she placed the hand not already holding the tablet on its front in the manner of someone at a courthouse taking an oath, and looked over at Dean.  She considered him momentarily as her grace started to go supernova and then whispered words of the same volume as her wings beating, quiet and completely capable of being heard.  She finished the sentence with a tone of minor awe, and then exploded into the dying light of an angel.  The light had barely appeared before it was focusing, darkening into one point of plasma like a flower closing before it was gone and the angel was on the floor, huge wings burned into the ground at her back and both hands holding the tablet. 

There was one second of silence where the tablet crumbled in on itself to dust, and then Crowley broke it with a snap of his fingers as he disappeared.  Interestingly enough the fighting restarted with barely a hitch, and Dean was left to wonder on the angel’s last words.

_“Castiel said it shouldn’t exist”_


	15. Deep water, deep water, senseless denial, I went down like a rag doll as you would, child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is just something about the song that this chapter's title is from that I love, even though the song is odd. It's just fantastic. Also! Last chapter's title is from the song this fic is named for. I also think there's a Little Motel song lyric somewhere in here, which is the song the series title is named for. It's like inception or something. I'm sorry my brain's off and this is really fascinating to me  
> Also, I reread this to edit, and two cliffhangers!! Fun, fun!

Derek’s house quickly came into their view, and in any other situation the Alpha would’ve grinned at how far he had driven in such a short time.  Dean would be pissed off about the damage to his Baby, but that was later.  Now Derek was more concerned about the shock Dean was feeling and the way the angel supporting the Alpha was shining, the blue of his retinas almost invisible through the bright light.  Derek had been so fucking scared when Cas had screamed and glowed like he was bleeding light, absolutely terrified that the angel would die and somewhat amazed that he cared so much.  Dean had prodded at the bond and added his own fear to that, though his hunter had focused more on sending calm to Derek, an ingrained habit that Derek was so thankful for, especially now dealing with a Cas who smelt and acted completely emotionless.  Though he _was_ extremely grateful to the angel for holding him up and not being so stiff about physical contact.

Since he was focusing so hard on his bond, Derek was aware of the exact second that Dean noticed something was wrong on his end, either having _really_ looked at the bond or Isaac having gotten there.  Derek wasn’t surprised it had taken so long what with all the fighting and whatever had surprised Dean, but he was quite happy now that he was alerted to problems.  The pack and the hunters would hopefully be well enough to come and help them.

Derek could also tell that there were angel wards around his house by the way that Cas stiffened and started to lean more on Derek.  The demon-wolves behind them pushed them in the direction of the basement and he growled lowly at the feel of them to his back.  Not that he could do anything about it.

“Shit” Stiles voice hissed as they entered the room Kate Argent had tortured Derek in so long ago, and Cas fell almost completely onto him.  Thank God Cas didn’t weigh a lot, ‘cause Derek also felt like sinking as he took in the wounds on Stiles.  The nephilim had a large bleeding stab wound in his side amongst other cuts, and Derek was reminded of Cas saying that they stabbed him.  He was also hanging from chains on his wrists in the exact same way Kate had placed Derek.

“Stiles” Cas replied cordially, as if frantic emotions weren’t hedging along the edges of his scent and face.

“Glad everyone knows each other.” Deucalion sounded triumphant and Derek turned to see the demon-wolf in the opposite corner of the room, noting that his eyes were yellow with a red ring instead of the white of the other Alpha demon-wolves or black of their lackeys. 

Then all thoughts were pushed aside as Derek noticed the other two werewolves in the room, an almost physical pain lancing through him like an angel blade.  Erica and Boyd were curled up against the wall, smelling strongly of wolfsbane and death.  Erica had looked up at their entrance but Boyd’s eyes were sightless, staring up at the ceiling as blood pooled from a clean stab wound in his chest.  Derek barely noticed the loss of contact between himself and Cas, or the demands Deucalion was making that the angel stop protecting Stiles, too focused with horror on his dead and obviously tortured Beta’s. 

Erica was meeting his eyes without any blame in them, but a kind of resigned determination that could only come with someone who knew that death was inevitable.  He was only returned to the conversation when Erica seemed to perk up and broke their gaze, the tear tracks glinting on her cheeks in the dim lighting. 

“I’m sorry Castiel, I’m the only one now who can complete the trials, I have to kill the nephilim and tear out my grace” Samandriel, who Derek hadn’t noticed up until then was speaking, but the angel’s eyes stayed fixed on Derek’s Beta’s rather than look for the other angel.  He seemed to be trying to get a badly hidden point across when his odd inflection, but Derek left that for Cas to figure out.  “I’m the _only_ one who can do this, and now that the angel tablet’s destroyed, it will be done.”  The angel tablet’s destroyed?  Huh, what’d that have to do with this.

All of a sudden comprehending, Derek’s whipped his head up to stare at Samandriel, who was standing in front of the head demon-wolf.  The angel was still covered in blood, though only now the werewolf realized that it was his own.  Samandriel was not on the demons side, but being forced into it. 

“Quiet” Deucalion snapped, lashing out to catch Samandriel in the back with a bloodied angel blade and proving Derek’s theory.  “This is getting nowhere, Kali, restrain Hale, and Aiden, as we discussed.”

Kali was grabbing Derek’s arms before the Alpha could really struggle and then Aiden was in front of him, shredding his shirt for some unknown reason.  His claws caught on Kali and she spat in anger, sinking her teeth once again into the back of his neck to hold him.  Cas moved as if to help Derek, but then Stiles screamed and the angel froze, somewhat lost in his mind as more of his grace was attacked through the nephilim. 

When Aiden let out a noise of triumph and raked his claws across Derek’s hip, he finally understood what was happening.  A demon was going to possess him.  Going to do with him what they had done to the Alpha pack. 

“Derek!” Cas’ cry tore him away from the inevitability of his impending possession and though he still struggled with the demon, the commanding and pained tone the angel was using grabbed his attention.  “Give Dean your wolf, use your bond!”

That was all the angel managed to get out before Aiden was forcing his mouth against Derek’s and the Alpha felt something thick and clogging pour down his throat, the smell of sulfur burning and consuming him.  Wrenching stinging attacked him and he snarled, partway to shifted and yet at the same time not at all in control, pissed off about the parody of kissing with someone other than Dean, and terrified about the situation.

“Push your wolf through the bond” This time Cas’ command was spoken as an Alpha in pain and Derek’s ingrained reaction to obey had him stopping his wolf as it fought to protect him from the demon and guiding it forcefully towards the now frantic bond with Dean. 

Cas’ pained scream and Erica’s one of denial reached Derek’s ears through the white noise and confusion of being possessed, but he could do nothing except try and follow the angel’s order, shoving the wolf at Dean and howling at the stretch as the bond opened.  Dean had been the one in their relationship to be split open and raped, but this felt like the mind equivalent of being on both sides of it.  Unnaturally forcing the bond open, and feeling the stretch as it tore, the feeling of pure _Dean_ flooding through as Derek’s wolf left.  It was excruciatingly painful, and Derek couldn’t get enough.

Managing to take control enough to crack his eyes open, Derek found that now he was the one on the floor, and his fingers were no longer clawed.  He felt as weak as though he had been doused with wolfsbane, barely able to see blurry shapes of his friends before the demon took over completely and he was lost. 

The bond with Dean didn’t snap back to its usual size and Derek pressed close to it as his body moved without permission.  The demon harshly pressed him down and then more of _Dean_ was flooding across their bond, stretching around and layering in-between Derek and the filthy taint of demon, protecting him.

He could still feel the demon inside him use his body to scowl and speak, but like it was wrapped up and distanced.  “I don’t know what he did, but Hale isn’t a werewolf anymore, I can’t take his wolf.”

Deucalion sneered as if that were the demon’s—Derek was just going to call him Aiden, like they had decided with the Alpha pack when it became demon filled originally—fault, saying, “You’d better hope you can still take care of the angel then.”

“Of course I can” Aiden replied, something like fear hiding behind the arrogance in his tone as flashes of torture pulsed through his mind, Derek catching them and shying away into the constant feelings of calm and reassurance Dean was sending.

At least those were probably the emotions Dean was _actively_ trying to send him, but due to the not closing bond Derek could also feel the white hot rage pouring through his mate, the perverse and vengeful desire to _tear_ apart the demon that dared touch Derek.  Twisted it may be, that was probably the most comforting.

Aiden moved into a kneeling position and pulled another angel blade from his old meat-suit that now lay discarded and dead on the floor in front of him.  Standing, him and Kali flanked Cas, the mocking grin feeling weird on Derek’s face. 

“Last chance, you stop protecting the nephilim or you die.” Aiden said silkily, though all in the room knew it was a lie.  Cas would die no matter what happened

“Get the hell out of him!” Stiles yelled in the background, none of the demons taking notice, or caring if they did.

Cas stood frozen, watching Aiden as he walked closer.  Derek mentally screamed at him to kill the demon and protect himself, but it went unheeded.  Even if he had been auditable he didn’t know if Cas would’ve moved.  Attacking Aiden would mean attacking Derek, something the angel apparently had major hang ups about doing.  But Derek just couldn’t _let_ his body be used to kill the angel.  He raged and screamed inside his mind, and nothing happened beyond Dean pulling him tighter, refusing to let Derek go as the demon his body laughed.

 

~*~

 

After Naomi had randomly appeared to save the day by dying and Dean had freaked out with the negative feelings pouring through the bond from Derek, Isaac had appeared to take them all to Derek’s house, saying that they had Stiles, and Dean also knew that they had Derek, if not also Cas.  Now, Dean was almost a kilometer away from where his mate was being held, emotional grief and pain pouring through their bond.  Where the demons that they were fighting had come from Dean had no idea, but he fought back, killing black-eyes and trying to figure out where the rest of the white-eyed demons were. 

He had just taken down another black-eye with a knife to its gut when darkness poured into Derek across the bond and his mate started to frantically attack the bond, no, open up the bond.  Derek was yanking on it and pouring something much more substantial than emotions through it.  Staggering a bit, Dean floundered in and out of his head, thankful that there seemed to be a lull in demons coming after him.  Really not thinking of anything except speed to what Derek was trying to do but trusting him all the same, Dean continued to push encouragement back through their connection, realizing suddenly that something was trying to possess Derek.  Oh fuck no, no fucking demon got to possess Derek.  Pissed off at this revelation, Dean tried to hide his absolute fury from his mate until there was a feeling like something tearing in his mind and the bond with Derek ripped open, something that felt like _Derek_ pouring into Dean.  He got the dimmest sense that Derek was trying to run from the possession and jumped into motion, helping his mate by pulling on him, accepting whatever Derek was pushing over and ignoring the painful twinges shooting through whatever had torn in their bond.

Unable to really divide his time between Derek and fighting his own demons, Dean cursed aloud and twisted, a bullet aimed for his heart instead going through his shoulder.  He really hated demons who thought it was fun to run around carrying guns.  Like what the hell?  Telekinesis, can’t be killed easily, can possess almost anyone, did they really _need_ to have guns as well?  So not fair.

Unfortunately Dean’s attempted avoidance of the bullet sent him back into one of the demon werewolves—Ethan or Aiden—and he gasped as its claws shredded down his arm on the already shot side, yanking his focus away from Derek who had gone under the smoky darkness, whatever he had sent him detaching itself from the Alpha and reattaching to Dean.  He still covered his mate though, the torn open bond allowing Dean to what, ‘soulize’ and coat himself over Derek.  He caught the demon—he’s going to go with Ethan—in the stomach as retribution, but then the demon in Derek gave a particularly harsh press that had Dean scrambling to cover his mate, the knife getting hit out of his hand in his moment of distraction. 

Ethan roared in triumph and pressed forward, ignoring Dean’s truly pathetic attempt at using his fists to fight until he could get his gun out.  Still smirking, the demon wolf grabbed Dean’s throat, lifting him off the ground.  Grunting, Dean grabbed at the creature’s arms, clawing at them to get it to release him.  And as Ethan dropped Dean like a hot stone he partially realized what Derek had pushed through their bond to him.  Figured it out namely by the fact that he was _actually clawing at the creature’s arm_.  With claws, sharp fucking claws that just randomly decided to pop out of his fingers like Derek’s did when he was shifted. 

Stumbling back and looking up at the shocked demon wolf, Dean’s claws lengthened further when Derek moved closer to him through their connection, and the hunter truly grasped what was actually going on. Derek’s had pushed his _wolf_ through the bond!  Cas had said that demons and wolves couldn’t coexist, so Derek had evidently decided to get rid of his wolf through Dean, so he’d still be possessed, but alive and capable of recovery. 

Alive and defenseless, which meant that Dean had to get to him as soon as possible.  Latching onto this thought, he lunged forward, letting out a snarl that he never expected to hear coming from himself.  He had absolutely no idea how to be a werewolf, but if this helped get his mate back, he was damn well going to try. 

His claws sunk into Ethan’s skin and Dean pulled back, ripping off a chunk of flesh and growling in anger.  Fuck, how the hell did werewolves control themselves?  Dean just wanted to kill anything and everything that had touched _any_ members of his family, Derek in particular.  Kill them, torture them, shred their skin and muscles, snap teeth through tendons, lovely, lovely, lovely.  Ethan attempted to push him back, but Dean let himself fall instead, bolting behind the twin, scooping up the demon killing knife and sliding it cleanly through his neck. 

The creature died without any further noise, hitting the ground hard behind Dean as the hunter moved onto the next one, a normal demon this time who was much easier to take down.  A triangular shape sharp as razor slit through the demons neck to mess with its freaky mojo and Dean wrenched the demon blade up, slamming it off-center between the demon’s shoulder blades and then again moving on, leaving the blade in its back as he followed the direction the bond was saying Derek was.  The Alpha was no longer pushing anything to Dean, completely human and possessed, and completely encased in Dean’s soul.

“Dean!” A voice called behind the hunter and he paused, turning and scenting the air.  _Kin,_ Sam.  There were five packmates against a bunch of demons, they didn’t need Dean, Dean had to go to his mate. 

“Dean wait, you can’t go al-oh shit” Sam cut himself off, staring at Dean in wide-eyed horror. 

Scott ran up beside him and let out a strangled noise, “You’re an Alpha”

Tilting his head to the side, Dean bared his teeth at the statement.  Dean wasn’t Alpha, Derek was the Alpha.  Dean just had Derek’s wolf.  So why did these two smell almost scared?  The hunter didn’t even realize he was moving until he was right in front of Scott, scenting the Beta who had exposed his neck.  Fear, concern, slight pain, determination, resolve.  But fear _of_ Dean?  Why was that?  And when Derek was possessed and Cas and Stiles were missing, did it really matter?  Causing fear was good.  Torture or be tortured.  On or off the rack.

Dean growled low in his throat and the Beta tipped his head further back in a show of submission.  Sam spoke loudly over the growl and pulled Scott away from his somehow werewolf brother. “Dean stop, I don’t know how you Turned but you need to focus.”

The growl turned into a snarl from the wolf at the thought that this human could order him around after being so absent, kin or not.  Before Dean could force him to accept his place however, panic and _pain_ , so much pain poured through the bond and Dean cried out, crouching and digging his claws into the sides of his head to get it to stop.  Distantly he heard Sam calling his name, but all he could think of was Derek.  His mate was in terrible pain, something was burning him, burning at the covering Dean had put over Derek.  Then someone else was helping Dean protect Derek and some breath came back.

Again he was unaware of movement until it had already happened and Dean was flying through the trees and towards Derek’s house, having completely forgotten about the others trying to stop him.  Two dead guards of some species lay to either side of the door but Dean paid them no mind until a third appeared, snapping into existence right in front of Dean.

 

~*~

 

“Stop, stop!” Stiles shouted and was once again ignored 

He was struggling against the chains with everything he had but it was as futile as a fly trying to get out of a glue trap while the demon in Derek was walking the Alpha towards Cas with the clear intent to kill him.  Erica was crawling towards Samandriel, Cas was protecting Stiles even as grace poured out of him, everyone was doing something to help them except Stiles.  Everyone was dying except Stiles, even though he was the only one the demons actually wanted.  But Derek, Erica and Cas weren’t allowed to die.  What would he do without his Alpha, his Catwoman, and his-his Cas? 

Stiles was just so fucking useless.  Oh yay, he was a nephilim, one of the creatures who were complete terrors against heaven so long ago, had to have a bloody war to get rid of them, and here he was bound by completely normal chains, hanging there hopelessly while people he loved were about to die for him.  Hell, Boyd had already died for him.  Deucalion had wanted to know who was protecting him, and when Stiles refused to tell him he killed the Beta, stabbed him through with the angel blade and then dropping his body like nothing. 

Kali approached Cas from behind and the angel spun, his blade coming out and using the momentum to slash the creature across its front, deep enough that it took a couple steps back and screeched in pain, fighting to stay alive.  Turning back around to face Derek—no, _Aiden_ —the angel froze.  The demon has no such qualm however, and lifted his stolen hand to place it on Cas’ face, his own face twisted in a gleeful smile as the angel did nothing but glare.  Cas wouldn’t hurt Derek, that Stiles knew, but the demon inside Derek _would_ hurt Cas.  Derek’s death was so completely out of the question that it wasn’t even in the same dimension, and Cas’?  Well Cas was fucking awesome.  He was hilarious in a kind of deadpan way, he listened to Stiles and paid attention, came up with great conversation, kissed like a pro, had saved Stiles’ life multiple times, protected Stiles with his angel equivalent of a soul, curled around the nephilim even though he had been conditioned to kill his kind, done so freaking much for Stiles.  So yes, Cas’ death was _also_ out of the question.

Anger poured through Stiles at the whole situation as he continued to shout at them to stop, barely taking note of the ringing noise filling the room and the way Deucalion raced from the room like he was on fire.  Fury for Boyd’s death, for the pain Erica was evidently in as she continued to approach Samandriel, for the way Samandriel pretended not to see her, opening himself up to the death she would bring, for the screams Cas had let out when Stiles was stabbed again, and for the scared and pained snarls that had slipped out of Derek as he was being possessed.  Stiles would _not_ be useless amidst all of that.  He absolutely _refused_ to hang here and do nothing.  No, he didn’t have any of the memories Cas had suggested might come back of his life as a nephilim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something.  He could _so_ do something, he _had_ to do something. 

Things seemed to almost brighten with his rage as they moved, Erica lunging for the sword Deucalion had dropped and Kali, Aiden and Cas all turning to look at the nephilim in an amazement that Stiles couldn’t comprehend.  His yelling turned into a long drawn out scream of rage and the ringing became steady in its thunder.  Had his eyes been open he might have realized that things actually _were_ brightening, but by then he was gone, all of his anger from helplessness exploding and the world going white. 


	16. I didn't feel angry or depressed,  I didn't feel anything at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is really short and mean and terrible and all, but it just happened to write only in the present tense, and so got it's own chapter. Also, I totally meant to have this be Erica's POV, but Samandriel jumped in instead. Sorry for everyone hoping it'd be the Beta. I do love her, but apparently I can't write well from her view.   
> I think that this story will be about 22 chapters, I have up to 20 written, but I can see at least two more from my outline.   
> Lastly, you need to admit that this chapter title is fantastic for the chapter. Just admit it.

He knows he’s going to die, standing here in the middle of a burnt out house, covered in wounds given to him by a demon and watching his brother as Castiel desperately protect a nephilim and a werewolf with his entire being, his existence.  Samandriel thinks that perhaps he should be more upset by this, should be trying to protect himself by taking a step away from the half dead Beta werewolf crawling towards him, his own angel blade in her hand.  Really it would be that easy, only taking a single step and she’d never make it.  Because he also knows what the nephilim is doing.  Knows that this creature, this millennium old child without memories is mirroring the sacrifice Castiel made for him, tearing himself apart and using his grace-soul mix to burn the demons away.  Knows that this will also kill the werewolves, which is why Castiel is protecting the one that had supported him into this place.  Castiel has so much heart, cares so much.  Some would say too much, but Samandriel can only feel admiration of the love his brother feels for the two creatures he’s protecting.

The brush of his brother’s grace surprises him, and he understands that Castiel is trying to protect him as well, trying to stretch himself thin enough to cover him, and, he realizes as he watches the werewolf coming towards him, her as well.  She seems to recognize that something celestial in nature is touching her, but looks determined to finish this nonetheless.  In her mind he can see her identify the touch as Castiel’s grace rather than Samandriel’s, and that it’s there to protect her.  And still she inches forward to kill him in a way so easily avoided.  Only a single step.

But instead he just watches her crawl closer, hears her mind screaming at her to go back to the dead body of her friend, but fighting on anyways because like him, she also knows.  Knows that Samandriel has to die.  He’s already completed one of the trials and started both the second and the third.  He’s given the nephilim his grace back and his own grace is barely tethered on, dim from torture and as easy to pull out as picking a thin stemmed flower.  

When their eyes meet a sort of understanding passes between them, he sees it in her mind as stark and unyielding as in his own.  They both know that he has to die, they both know that Castiel will kill himself if he tries to protect four of them, that even three would be too much.  And as the resignation in her eyes turns to her own death, they both reject Castiel’s protection, pinch at his grace so that it snaps away from them, adding to the layers of protectant on the nephilim and Castiel’s werewolf rather than being wasted on their increasingly finite lives. 

Samandriel holds his hand out to her, welcoming the ending she is set to bring, the glorious oblivion.  He isn’t suicidal, never has been as he doesn’t want to die, all he wants is rest.  He’s so tired. But with the trials already completed and hanging over his head, he knows that death is the only way he’ll ever get rest.  He hopes his brother survives.  Hopes the two he’s protecting make it as well.  And knows that this is the understanding between him and the Beta, that they will die, because the others must live.

And when the nephilim explodes into soul and grace and all that exists in-between, she grabs his hand and pulls herself up.


	17. MARCH ON!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that these cliff hangers were not intentional. If this could be considered one at least. If not, you get a cookie, if so, you get a muffin. Choose wisely for what you comprehend.

Castiel could only slam his eyes shut in horror as Stiles’ grace exploded, flinching back and away from the release of wrathful and undirected fury.  Screams rose from all around him as creatures were burnt out, but it was Derek’s scream that shook Castiel into action.  Opening his eyes again and ignoring how they burned when they shouldn’t at such a display of grace, the angel grabbed Derek a split second after the demon inside of him was destroyed and the grace started to burn the Alpha.  Pulling him close, Castiel covered Derek with his body, hoping that Dean had fully accepted and taken in his wolf so that he wouldn’t die from the out lash.  Flinging out his grace Castiel tried to protect Samandriel and Erica as well, but his efforts were rebuffed, snapped at and sent whipping back towards him as if disapproving and telling him to cover himself before the other two.  He knew he couldn’t protect them all, but it was so hard to stand by and let Samandriel and Erica die. 

Curling further over Derek through the grace outlast, Castiel pushed the Alpha’s head down into his neck and buried his face in Derek’s hair, attempting to both cover as much visible skin on Derek as he could and hide himself from the world for a moment.  Stiles was showing signs of his grace running out when Castiel finally let himself and Derek sink to the ground, the werewolf clutching onto him just as hard as he was holding back.  Torn between running to stop Stiles from dying and protecting Derek, Castiel did the only thing he could do, and waited.

Due to his eyes trying to get accustomed to so much light, it was almost pitch black when the last of Stiles’ grace drained away.  Relieved that Derek was no longer in harm’s way and he no longer had to choose between the two of them, Castiel tried to be as gentle as possible as he let Derek sink to the floor, the Alpha seared at the edges but alive.  Brushing his fingers over the unconscious werewolf’s head, Castiel sent only just enough healing through him to keep him that way, wary of using more and not having enough to save Stiles.  Glancing up for help, Castiel found both Erica and Samandriel dead with Kali, and his nephilim only just hanging on to life.  Even that quick glance was enough to know that Stiles had killed both Erica and Kali, the wings below Samandriel due to Erica’s understanding of the angel’s hints that he needed to die to completely stop the ritual.  Despair creeping through him, the angel wondered if he even had enough grace left to fix this.  The amount of grace that had been destroyed by Stiles getting stabbed was tremendous, and then he hadn’t recovered the meager amount used to heal Derek.  And now he was alone against whatever else may come. 

His blade already unsheathed, Castiel curled Derek’s fingers around it to hold.  He knew there was no way he’d be able to fight after he helped his nephilim, so the werewolf should have something to protect them with.  Castiel would revive him after healing Stiles, but for now he could rest.   No one was more important than Stiles, Derek and Dean.  Since Dean wasn’t here and Derek would live, Stiles was now his priority.

Realizing his thoughts were drifting, Castiel walked towards Stiles, his grace pulsing in sympathy and pain as he maneuvered his nephilim out of the tangle of chains he was hanging in, relief flooding through him as Stiles made a pained sound that proved he was still alive.  Tapping the chains to open them, Castiel caught Stiles before he fell, lowering his nephilim to the ground and instantly picking him back up, rethinking the best place to defend him.  Taking this into consideration, the angel ungracefully dragged Stiles over to the wall nearest to Derek, flopping down with him and pulling his nephilim into his lap.  Placing a hand on Stiles’ head, Castiel looked into his churning soul and winced at the destruction within.  The angel’s entire addition of grace had been destroyed along with a good portion of Stiles’ soul and most of the nephilim’s grace.  Not only was it no longer balanced, but the explosion of grace had burnt away the newly formed connections between his grace and soul, leaving them free room to fight, which they readily did. 

Though Castiel had not become so human that he could not sustain his vessel without oxygen, he took in a deep breath to calm himself.  When he finished fixing Stiles he doubted he’d have a choice anymore.  Despite this knowledge, Castiel pulled away from his own vessel  as if he were about to completely leave it and pressed his lips to Stiles’.  Both parts of his nephilim would recognize him from the grace he had given to Stiles and the tattered bond that still held on between them, but would only be saved if they both were to reciprocate it.  Using this familiarity, Castiel _breathed_ , sinking into Stiles until he was practically in two vessels at once, one that was empty and his completely, and one that had given him no consent yet recognized and let him in.

Forcing his shapeless being into form, Castiel slid thin tendrils and thick flows of grace through Stiles, churning the already agitated grace-soul mix.  He had seen Dean do this with salad dressing once, in a grocery store.  They had been going down the aisle and Dean had just picked one up and shook the separated oil, spices and whatever else was in it until they were one opaque yellow liquid.  He had laughed like a child and put it back without a second glance, but Castiel had remembered because it had made Dean happy. 

Now as he did the same to Stiles, he couldn’t find it in himself to have lifted spirits even remembering the moment.  In this occasion he had to mix up his nephilim’s soul and fix it so that it stayed mixed instead of falling back to its clear halves like he had done before.  There was nothing funny about doing that to someone he had grown to care deeply for, and he was just thankful that Stiles was still unconscious for it.

Nonetheless, it had to be done, and Castiel started to twirl the pieces of his grace that were inside Stiles, tying them in intricate designs and then cleanly slicing them off, gasping in pain that he could no longer muffle.  He was only tying bits of his grace at a time through Stiles’ soul, randomly and well spread through the nephilim, but it should be enough to keep it mixed rather than the separate parts he had left them as before. 

It was only when Castiel had finished the last cut and pulled away that he realized just how much grace he had given Stiles.  He was tired and aching, wounds that should’ve been insignificant tripping him up as they refused to heal.  His head wasn’t working right either.  Panting as though he’d flown straight for years, the angel rested his forehead on top of Stiles’, stealing a second of calm before he set things up so he could pass out.

“Cas? You okay?” Stiles’ drowsy voice was what cut through Castiel’s moment of rest and he jerked back, surprised that his nephilim had managed to come back to awareness after all that had happened to him.  

“I am fine” Castiel answered, deciding to take the route Dean tended to use when asked if he was okay. 

At first it had seemed so odd to him that humans would lie about whether or not they were well, but now he could completely understand it.  If Stiles knew how not fine Castiel was he’d attempt to help him which, in turn, would harm Stiles.  Therefore the angel had to be fine. 

“Derek? Erica?”  Stiles demanded, though his voice was weak and he still did not open his eyes.  When Castiel did not reply right away he struggled to open them, his eyelashes fluttering as he twisted in the angel’s grasp.

“Derek’s unconscious but okay.” Castiel assured, clutching onto his nephilim more tightly and shushing him softly

Stiles had killed Erica after she had killed Samandriel.  She had already been wounded but he had finished it by burning her out with his grace, refusing the protection so Castiel could use his grace on Derek and Stiles.  But Castiel couldn’t answer with the truth, couldn’t create such guilt in his nephilim that Castiel himself carried around daily for killing Balthazar, Rachel and so many others of his kin.  Stiles hadn’t meant to kill his friend while Castiel _had_ when he made his mistakes, but he would carry the burden of it just the same if he knew.  Stiles had been out of it enough that he would accept whatever Castiel told him.

So Castiel answered evenly, sorrow spreading through him at the lie and how it could be perceived to lay the blame, but refusing to let Stiles believe he was at fault.  “The backlash from killing Samandriel killed her.”

Stiles let out an incoherent whine of dismay and sorrow, and the angel stroked his forehead again, making small shushing noises that he had heard mothers make to their upset children.  His nephilim curled up tighter to him and Castiel adjusted them so that he was more fully in the angel’s lap.  Even that small movement had them both gasping in exhaustion, and Castiel felt Stiles go limp, passing out.  A door nearby opened and Castiel heard Derek wake up, snarling and a clinking noise belaying him moving with Castiel’s blade.  The angel wanted to get up and help him, but his vessel wouldn’t do as he directed it, refusing all commands for motion.  He was curious as to why that was, but as his eyes flicked open from when they had somehow closed, his graze fell on Stiles and he realized that he too was close to passing out.

Well, Castiel thought as the world’s noises faded around him, this was new.

 

~*~

 

Dean snarled a warning and the demon’s—Crowley, the human part of Dean’s mind supplied—eyes widened in surprise. 

“So, you mated with a werewolf and went after Azriel.  You are, truly insane Winchester.” Crowley mused, straightening and narrowing his eyes.  “I always thought it’d be Moose who Turned into a monster.”

 Again snarling, Dean advanced on the demon separating him from his mate.  It didn’t matter that he couldn’t kill a demon with his fangs, this one was delaying him and Dean was going to rip his throat out.  With his teeth. 

“Well, let it never be said that I don’t know when something’s a lost cause.” Crowley chuckled, though he smelt distinctly _not_ amused as he shrugged and straightened his jacket.  Conflict.  “It would’ve been so nice to pull all those feathery beings from their clouds, but I suppose I’ll have to find something else to use up my copious amounts of spare time.”  Dean was in hitting range of the demon now and he bared his teeth as a warning.  This time there was a flicker of real amusement and Crowley’s eyes gazed behind him as if seeing more people approaching.  With a grimace, the king of hell mockingly saluted Dean. “You’re part demon love, we could have a lot of fun together.  You should visit”

With that the demon was gone and forgotten, all of his words erased as unimportant as Dean lunged forward, smashing through the doors and ignoring distant cries for him to wait.  Booking it down to the basement, Dean skittered to a stop inside a room filled with the smell of death.

The scene he was met with inside seemed to sear itself into Dean’s mind, sticking there so that he would have to dream of it over and over again.  The room was littered with bodies including Erica’s and Boyd’s, lying slightly away from each other in a pool of blood, the former next to a set of wings burned into the ground—not Cas’ wings, unimportant.  Cas and Stiles were unconscious, tangled together on the ground off to the side, the nephilim resting on the angel’s chest and their heartbeats matching.  The single remaining demon wolf alive was here, Deucalion, and fighting his way over to them, having only not killed them already because mate—Derek—was holding him at bay.  Dean’s Alpha looked terrible, blood running from his ears, scars and un-healing wounds covering skin that looked reddened from fire.  Both of his eyes were red, though from blood trickling into them rather than the crimson light of an Alpha.  The demon wolf was attacking him mercilessly, laughing at Dean’s mate’s attempts at fighting with Castiel’s sword.  A swift move brought Derek to his knees, Deucalion screeching as Derek put Cas’ blade through its arm.  Seemingly in punishment the creature ripped the blade away and slammed its fist into the side of Derek’s head

The roar that Dean released was completely inhuman, a mix of feral wolf, demon, and a protective rage that was all Dean’s own.

_Fury, anger, fear, hatred. Fangs and howls._

“Winchester’s a guard dog now too?” Deucalion hissed, its red ringed yellow eyes flashing.  “Not surprising, considering you’re already Hale’s bitch, bet you love bending over for him”

Bitch, bending over, being taken by mate.  Yes, good, want.  Taunting?  Unimportant, useless, won’t help mate.

Deucalion dropped Derek and Dean sprung, tearing the creature away from his mate and family.  Practically mindless with anger, Dean ripped and tore, bit and shredded, ignoring any bursts of pain in favor of raining his wrath down on the demon wolf that had dared touch someone that belonged to him.  Red and yellow eyes spun around Dean and he snarled, losing time until he found his mouth filled with blood and the demon gurgling and laughing.

_Excitement, protectiveness, anger, determination. Claws and snapping teeth._

“I’ve missed you in hell, with Alistair gone it’s really too bad I couldn’t take over for him.  You could be my bitch instead” The demon wolf taunted, its eyes flashing again as if that was necessary for fighting.

Hell, Alistair, _bad! Flee! Protect!_ No, Alistair’s dead, just more taunting, still unimportant.

The wolf snarled and spat at the mocking, wanting to run forward and tear Deucalion’s throat out, but the demon/human side of Dean knew that the only way to kill it would be with Cas’ blade.  Demons couldn’t be killed with claws and teeth, could they?  No.  His eyes flicking back to Deucalion, Dean dismissed the demon wolf’s continued taunts in favor of focusing their wolf on getting the blade.  The creature threatened Derek, therefore he had to die, therefore the blade was needed.  No time to draw it out, unfortunately.  Though that would be so nice…

_Determination, necessity, hatred, anticipation.  Sprays of crimson and the promise of killing._

Pain lashed through him as there was a snapping sound of Dean’s arm breaking and Deucalion laughed again, as if mocking was all it knew how to do.  Evidently thinking that broken bones would slow Dean, it drew back for taunts and gave the hunter the perfect chance to arm himself for killing it.  Dean would’ve _loved_ to take time with killing the demon wolf, but only the silver blade in front of his face registered, then in his hand, and then thoughts were gone again.

_Hatred, sick joy, disgust, fury.  The taste of blood and the feel of hellfire._

Thoughts came back with an ugly squelching noise, a mist of burning sulfur and the heartbeat below Dean stopping its rhythm, replaced with the important noise of his mate speaking his name.  Then the only thing running through Dean was _Derek_ , repeating and dragging him forwards, holding sanity back for even longer as the hunter approached and coiled himself around his mate.  He only noticed that he was murmuring Derek’s name over and over when the Alpha spoke his name again in reply, just as quietly and filled with elated relief.

Some sanity.  Not complete, but one thought in front of the other.  Sequences, the attempt to make reality connect.  _Derek_.

Dean grinned and kissed his mate, attempting to get so close he was practically crawling into Derek through his mouth and pushing his wolf back through their still wide open bond, flinching at the pain from the action but ignoring it.  Pulling back, Dean rested his forehead against his mate’s and stared into his eyes as the crimson of blood healed through tears and was replaced by beautifully glowing scarlet.  Dean could feel the last verges of the wolf slipping away, rationality mostly returning with its passing.  Watching his mate, Dean could do nothing but smile brilliantly, the gesture reflected on Derek’s face until suddenly his Alpha paused, lifting up a hand and drawing a finger down one of Dean’s teeth.

Dean tilted his head in confusion, grimacing when the finger came away red, but then Derek was looking back up with concern, murmuring one word. “Fangs.”


	18. It pulls all on down my sore feet, I wanna go back to sleep

Stiles’s lightshow had been terrifying, burning away at the demon inside Derek and then burning at him, sinking into his very core of being and scorching him with heat.  It probably hadn’t even been milliseconds before Cas got to him, but it felt like years before the angel was curling himself around Derek and the burning stopped.  The relief Cas brought had disabled him from doing anything but coil into the angel, wrap his arms around the celestial being and move wherever he was put.  Even with whatever Cas was doing to protect him, Derek had still passed out, so he wasn’t sure what happened next, just that Cas had fixed whatever he could, based on the way he wasn’t completely dead and he had the angel’s blade.  Stiles’ lightshow appeared to have killed all the demons and creatures around—did a good enough job of that on Derek even without his wolf, plus now _both_ Erica and Boyd were dead, though the continuing situation refused to let him dwell on that or grieve—but he didn’t know if there were more outside.  He couldn’t smell anyone, he couldn’t hear their heartbeats, he was completely human and it was terrifying.  Knowing that his wolf had gone to Dean did little to help calm Derek’s alarm. 

And then just to add to his rising panic, Deucalion appeared through a doorway in the back which he must have hid in though Derek hadn’t seen him leave, striding towards where Derek lay in front of a passed out Castiel and Stiles.  Derek growled, struggling to his feet and holding Cas’ blade as if he knew how to use it as well as claws and fangs.  The creature attacked easily and mockingly, evidently knowing that Derek was human for the moment and deciding to play with him.   Derek ducked and turned as best as he could, but continued to get hit, each slash hurting more than it had when he had been a full werewolf, the pain lasting far longer.  Though his only goal was staying between Deucalion and his wounded packmates, Derek was not doing well at it, too hurt from grace and the pain of losing two of his pack.  But he couldn’t lose Cas and Stiles as well, that happening was pretty much unthinkable.

Derek fought and held on for as long as he could, but suddenly there was a foot curling around his ankle, tripping him and shoving him to the floor.  Wrenching his arm up, Derek stabbed Deucalion through its wrist in short lived defiance.  In retaliation the creature slammed his fist into the side of Derek’s head and he lost his blade, gasping in the knowledge that now him and another two packmates would die.  He blinked furiously in an attempt to clear his eyes, but somehow blood had gotten into them and everything was muted, a muddy red.  Just as he had given up hope a roar shook the room and though Derek had never heard it before, he instantly recognized it and relaxed.  Because it was _Dean,_ Dean was here, Dean would help him.  Just a little while ago Dean had made a promise to _torture_ anyone who thought of hurting Derek, he wouldn’t stop now until this creature was dead and Derek was protected.

So when Deucalion gripped his hair and tossed him to the side Derek kept his eyes wide open despite the burning heat and red sheen that had nothing to do with being a werewolf, awkwardly twisting on the ground so that he could see his mate.  His beautiful terrifying mate, whose eyes were bright crimson and striped, fingers ended in long claws and barring bloodstained fangs as he threw himself at the demon wolf.  Watching them fight was just as horrifying as it was exhilarating.  Dean appeared to have gone completely feral in his desire to see Deucalion dead, but Derek had no idea whether or not his mate could actually beat the creature, lending protective fear to the mix of emotions running through the newly human Alpha.  Dimly he could hear Deucalion taunting Dean, but all he focused on was the hunter himself, watching as he became covered in a mix of blood.  Through the bond Derek could feel little other than protectiveness and anger, any other emotions being swallowed up in the rush as he fought with fangs, claws, and a triangular blade that whipped around and darted at the demon-wolf

Derek let out a sympathy gasp of pain when he heard his mate’s arm snap, but the pain seemed to bring him out of the feral grasp that had taken over and Dean lunged, cracking the arm back in place and grabbing the blade that had been torn away from Derek.  The Alpha wondered for a second on why he hadn’t just gotten the sword himself to help Dean, but then he shifted on the ground and remembered.  Probably because he was covered in burns and open wounds and couldn’t move without crying out in agony.  That’s what happened when you had never felt pain without being a werewolf before.  Everything _really_ hurt.

He didn’t know why, but for some reason Derek expected the fight to become more heated after Dean had gotten the blade, come to a tipping point and then one would die in epic ways that Stiles would later falsely recall and spout nonsense about.  In reality it was much grosser and quicker.  Dean feinted to the side, the demon wolf fell for it, and then the hunter proceeded to jam Cas’ blade through the creature’s throat and literally _tear_ his head off at the same time, letting out a short snarl of triumph at the burst of decaying sulfur that even Derek could smell without his senses. 

“Dean” Derek murmured softly, trying to grin around the pain as the hunter carelessly dropped the body and rushed over to him, Derek’s name slipping from his lips like a repeated prayer. 

The hunter smoothly arranged himself around the Alpha and met him in a kiss, swallowing his own name on Derek’s lips.  There was a rough push at the broken bond and Derek could feel his wolf coming back, with no more demon pushing it out it slipped through smoothly—far too smoothly, their bond was _torn_ to shreds—the red bleeding out of Deans eyes and leaving behind wonderfully clear blue eyes.  Grinning like a little kid, Derek greedily took in the sight of his mate’s bloodstained face until his head started to heal and he realized what was wrong.  For one, _blue_ eyes, and second…

“Fangs” Derek said aloud, running his finger over one of the aforementioned incisors on display in his mate’s mouth.

Dean tilted his head to the side and Derek drew back just enough that he could take in the changes in his mate.  The hunters smell was almost the same, leather, Derek, whisky and salt, but with the extra addition of darkness like he was remembering hell, a lot more of the ozone scent of Castiel, and a smell that was something like, absence, like something was missing—recognizable, but no name there yet.  If it had been anyone else the new mixture of scents would be terrible, but with Dean it just seemed to fit, each part complimenting the others and making him complete.  Even the smell of something missing paradoxically mixed in well, swirling around the ozone and smell of Derek like it had always been there.

The physical differences were just as drastic, werewolf type fangs and almost neon eyes.  Bright electric blue like a Beta, but with a demon black ring around the outside and a pure white ring around the pupil.  Looking down and following the rest of Dean’s body, Derek also noted the claws, picking up one of Dean’s hands and holding it, listening to the way his mate’s heartbeat hitched when he saw them.  Derek let his own come out, shifting to make sure that his wolf _was_ actually with him.  But no, he was definitely complete.  Whatever this was, it was all Dean.

“Derek, what the fuck?” His mate asked lowly, flexing his fingers and alternating between staring at them and at Derek’s claws.  “You have your wolf back”

“You’re not a werewolf” Was the only thing Derek could reply of value.  He had no fucking idea what was happening to his mate, but that he was sure of.

He wanted to whine, to panic, but it wasn’t like it felt _wrong_ , rather like something had happened that had been a long time in the making. 

Dean’s eyes flickered back up to Derek’s face and he asked, “Are my eyes the same?”

Derek shook his head but before he could answer there was the noise of more people entering the warehouse and Dean whipped his head around, snarling at the movement and shielding Derek with his body.  The Alpha ducked out from under Dean and peered at the newcomers as they came closer, reassured to feel his bones snapping back into place and cuts sealing over.  His wolf, already confused and enraged from the mess of the previous couple hours, demanded that Derek and his mate protect the unconscious pack members from the non pack arriving.  He moved away from Dean and it was like the other had the same instinct, both of them mirroring each others motions to crouch in front of Cas and Stiles. 

It was weird in a detached yet frantic way.  Erica and Boyd were dead, two packmates were behind them unconscious, and Sam, Scott, Allison, Isaac and Argent were rushing into the place only to freeze when they saw the scene.  Majority was pack, but two of the newcomers weren’t, were potential threats to the slowly healing wolves, nephilim, angel, and whatever Dean was, therefore he couldn’t relax. 

“Dean, what’s happening?”  Luckily Sam kept his voice quiet, though fear and concern poured from him in equal measures.  Made sense, probably because of the whole shifting thing Dean had going on. 

Dean growled lowly, tilting his head to the side and staring at Sam with bright eyes, black snakeskin lashing behind him.  His voice was surprisingly calm for the answer.  “I’ve no fucking idea.”

And that was the last moment of whatever passed for calm these days in a while, seeing as right after Isaac noticed their dead packmates bodies and his wail of grief called out to Derek, breaking down whatever fragile escape from sorrow trying to stay alive had bought him.  Erica and Boyd were dead.  Both of them, gone just like that.  Derek still had a pack, family, but now it was so much smaller, Isaac, Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Dean.  He could barely feel Lydia or Jackson anymore and knew that Peter had completely left.   Now Erica and Boyd were gone too. 

“What happened to them?”  Scott was the one to ask, breaking through the noises of grief echoing around the warehouse, Allison crying softly into the Beta’s shoulder, Isaac looking miserable and like he would soon also succumb to tears. 

“The demons killed Boyd, and Erica died from killing Samandriel.”  Cas spoke up and Derek whipped around, relieved to find the angel awake, still cradling an unconscious Stiles. 

Turning back around and allowing himself to slump now that he knew Cas was awake and able to protect Stiles, Derek stared aimlessly at the bodies.  Dean bodies.  That one thing was running around and around in Derek’s head, taking priority over everything, even the fact that his mate had been Turned into something.  Dean had sharply defined monochromatic eyes and Boyd and Erica were dead. 

Distantly Derek felt himself being moved and somehow he ended up fully leaning on Dean, his hunter easily taking his weight.  Sorrow was being reflected back through the bond, lesser, but still there and detailing the loss of friends, intermittent with jolts of pain from the broken walls of their link. 

“And Stiles?  There was a huge light show” Scott’s voice and Cas’ answer were also distant, and Derek belatedly noticed that losing his wolf had tired him out almost to the point of falling over.

The weariness from the adrenalin rush and sudden drop wasn’t disappearing, instead there was a steadily growing reminder that he needed to sleep after all that had transpired, werewolf or not.  His eyes traveled to where Argent and Sam stood.  Sam had been mistrusting before, but ever since finding out what Derek had done to Dean the other hunter practically _loathed_ him.  Argent may not always like it, but he followed the code much closer than his kin had.  Isaac, Allison and Scott were pack and should be protected, but Dean and Cas would be capable of that.  Granted Cas was in the midst of protecting Stiles, but he would still help out if need be.

When the fuck had Derek started trusting Cas so completely anyway? The Alpha wondered, twisting his head around until he could see the angel who had now stood up to lean against the wall, still clutching the nephilim.  Cas had threatened to kill Derek and made sure that the Alpha knew which one of them was the more powerful, but nevertheless he was positive that Cas would protect him and by extension his pack, and the Derek would do the same for him.  After all, he _had_ protected Derek as much as possible through recent events.  Cas didn’t look too good at the moment though, less like a celestial being and more like an overworked human. 

So things pretty much fell to Dean to defend them all, Derek’s brain helpfully supplied.  Rolling his head back and continuing to lean on Dean, the Alpha realized that he was instinctively making sure his pack was okay and strong enough for him to show weakness.  While he would’ve never done so before, now he had a mate who could be Alpha in his stead.  So once Argent and Sam were gone he could sleep on Dean however much he wanted, forget that Boyd and Erica were dead, forget that his mate—who had always wanted to stay human—was Turned into something, forget the damage that the demon-wolves had brought with them.  Forget it all and lose himself to comfort.  That would be nice.  Implausible, unreasonable, and definitely _not_ going to happen, but it would be nice.


	19. As long as you’re gone I can't apologize for all the things that I haven't said and done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I have actual mental issues with making long term emotional attachments, as in really mourning or caring about things or people I've loved when they're gone, and as such this chapter isn't done as well as it should be. Like, for me, there'll be certain moments when I'm sad and all, but they pass quickly and there haven't been any since this chapter was written, therefore I can't capture that tone. Even so, I hope it's okay, and I'm sorry for making us all lose Erica and Boyd again. Happier note, the ending is actually kind of written well!

Despite being too tired to carry Stiles, Castiel absolutely did not want to put him down or let anyone else carry his nephilim.  Of course that didn’t meant that he got what he wanted, as he was quite aware that he was likely to fall over or drop his nephilim if he tried to carry him much longer.  Dean was already practically carrying Derek, so the angel turned to Sam, gesturing for the tall hunter to approach him. 

After first making sure Sam was uninjured to the point of not needing healing, Castiel checked for lesser wounds and hoarsely asked “Can you carry Stiles?

Sam nodded instantly and took him from the angel, after a seconds pause the second grabbing onto the nephilim’s arm to satisfy his need for contact. Because Stiles had more of Castiel’s grace than the angel himself, it was soothing to be touching him.  Not that the contact wasn’t a big part of it too.  It wasn’t completely unknown, this desire to not let someone out of his sight, but it was rather useless in this case as Castiel wouldn’t be able to protect him even if he need it. 

“Are you okay?” It took a moment for Castiel to realize that Sam was talking to him, and another to draw his eyes away from watching Scott and Isaac carrying Erica and Boyd outside with them, Chris Argent carrying Samandriel’s vessel because Castiel had insisted.  His brother had been tortured into what he had done, and sentiment demanded that his vessel not be disposed of with the demon ones.

“I’m fine.”  The contraction this time came with the lie, perhaps making it sound more natural.  Even still, Castiel could tell Sam didn’t believe him and eventually the angel caved on giving slightly more information. “I used a lot of my grace fixing Stiles and protecting the three of us.”  Understatement, and again Sam seemed to know.

Upon their exit from the house, Dean turned to Argent and said in a grudging tone, “Thanks for your help, if you want to go we can finish up here.”

Argent turned to glance at his daughter, looking drawn and sad at the fact that she was leaning on Scott rather than him.  He sounded the same way when he spoke, “I might stay for a little longer”

Dean nodded though Argent hadn’t looked back, and Castiel could almost understand the man’s hesitance to look at Dean.  Not that the angel would avoid looking, just that the changes were really new, adding many layers to his soul.  Castiel’s grace was so dim that he could barely see his charge’s gorgeous soul, sorrow going through him that he could only really see the changes when Dean was shifted.  Then again, right now it was a very good distraction from staring at Stiles and willing the nephilim to wake, something that would be completely futile and serve to drive him mad with worry.  So he paid attention to Dean. 

The bond between Dean and his mate had originally only been a small addition to Dean’s soul, one that had grown as the two of them became closer.  Now however, as if the Turning hadn’t brought enough changes, the bond appeared to have been completely ripped open, Derek and Dean’s soul merging until there was little difference between one or the other.  The only way to distinguish the difference was that the part of their soul that swirled in Derek had the mark of Alpha on it, and the part that was in Dean was touched both black and white, then marked as a Beta.  His shifted eyes mirrored this change, demonic black, werewolf blue and angelic white.  From what he could tell, hell was responsible for the former, residue of Derek’s wolf for the middle, and Castiel and another angel for the latter, though he hadn’t yet had time to come up with a theory to what had happened.

Castiel also couldn’t quite tell who the other angel was, something that would be much more worrisome if he had the energy to spare for thinking of such things.  As it was, he was content to hold onto Stiles and try not to fall over as the pack discussed what to do with Erica and Boyd.  In the end of the quick moment they settled on salting and burning both bodies under a wolfsbane spiral.  Though the demons who killed them were dead—because it really hadn’t been Stiles’ fault—and they had gotten revenge, the symbol seemed appropriate. 

Sam wanted to help though, and after a brief and one sided talk to Castiel, he deposited both the angel and his nephilim around the back of Derek’s house near where they were going to bury their packmates.  Curling around Stiles, Castiel watched the proceedings through a half lidded gaze.   Argent, Scott and Dean dug one grave for the both of them, while Allison and Derek went into the house to set up the wolfsbane rope.  Because there could still be stragglers, Sam and Isaac went together to get the salt and gasoline from the impala.  Boyd and Erica were laid down about a meter away from where Castiel sat, Boyd’s face returned to one of peace and success curving a smile into Erica’s.  It had not been nice to see Samandriel die and Castiel was sure he should’ve lived, but as he had already completed the first trial and had basically told them to kill him, Castiel felt no animosity for Erica’s decision.  The fact that she was still strong enough mentally to leave the body of her friend in order to kill an angel was commendable.  Additionally, he would miss them both.

 

“Can we wake Stiles up?” Even that hushed tone had Castiel’s eyes snapping open, and he realized that he had actually fallen asleep. 

Looking up and tilting his head, he found Scott and Allison uneasily shifting above him, having evidently not known he had also been asleep.  Glancing around, Castiel took in the changes in the scene, noting that everything was prepared for the two werewolves and the demon’s vessels and Samandriel’s had been taken care of. 

Knowing that Stiles would want to be awake for their sendoff, Castiel turned his head slightly until he was murmuring into his ear, prodding through the bond at the same time.  “Stiles, wake up.”

The nephilim hummed and mumbled a protest, but eventually his eyes opened, glowing grey for a second until they returned to his normal honeyed brown.  “Cas?” He asked, his words slurred as he burrowed further into the angel’s side.  “What’s up?”

“We’re burying Erica and Boyd” Scott gave the answer and Stiles shot into sitting up, clapping a hand to his head in protest against the sudden movement.

“Fuck” He hissed, but stood, Castiel rising with him in case he fell.

When no sudden loss of height appeared to be forthcoming, they followed Allison and Scott over to the grave in which the two dead packmates now lay.  Together most often in life, together in death.  Looking around, Castiel took in the pack’s grief.  Argent was standing next to Allison who was crying, leaning on Scott and reaching out to grab her father’s arm.  Isaac had taken Stiles from Castiel and the two were silently staring down into the grave.  Derek looked devastated, and had only not fallen to his knees because Dean was holding him close.  The hunter still hadn’t shifted back to human, and their eyes met across the grave.  Both of them had lost so many people, so much family, but Dean still believed that he should be able to save everyone.  Being an angel, Castiel was almost desensitized to death, but here he wished he had spent more time learning who Boyd and Erica had been.  The former had seemed to only speak when necessary though he had always offering something of use, while the latter had reminded him of Jo.

“Goodbye Catwoman, Boyd.  We loved you and we’ll miss you” Stiles was the first to speak, and the words seemed to help the others throw in their own pieces, some audible and others were mouthed with no sound at all.

“We’ll theme a room with cherry red and orange cream for you Erica” Dean contributed, and Castiel saw sorrow in his mind that he didn’t know what to do or say for Boyd.

“We’ll miss you” Allison managed to choke out, and a flash of memory of her own arrows sinking into her packmates went through her mind with a burst of guilt.

The rest of the pack added their own farewells, and finally after a period of mournful silence, Derek pushed himself up and off Dean, crouching to brush dirt into the grave.  The rest of the pack soon followed until everyone was filling the grave except Argent, Sam, Dean, and Castiel.  The angel knew that he would be accepted into the pack easily with no pressuring needed, but like Dean, he believed that this was for the most intimate members of Boyd and Erica’s family.  The ones who had been with them since they joined the pack. 

When the grave was filled, Argent was the first to leave, looking to see if he could catch Derek’s eye, then dipping his head to the grave in respect when he could not.  Sam went with him after murmuring something to Dean that Castiel didn’t quite catch. 

Knowing that Stiles preferred to morn in silence, something he took from the npehilim’s experience of his mother dying, Castiel just stood there pressed up against him, not invading, but letting his presence be known if comfort was wished.   

 

~*~

 

Back at the pack apartment, Stiles sat and traced nonsensical patterns on the tabletop with his fingers.  After holding what barely qualified as a funeral for Erica and Boyd they had all somehow managed to make it back home, though Dean had disappeared somewhere and Derek answered that he was sleeping back at the motel.  The Alpha had looked understandably upset by that, but apparently was going to let Sam have his way for once.  Besides, much like Stiles, they both preferred to morn in silence that arguing would break.  After Stiles’ mom died he had barely spoken for a week, and on the anniversary of her death he would go to be alone at the cemetery.  So now he sat and grieved in the kitchen, staring at nothing and trying not to think, failing horribly at it.

Deucalion had killed Boyd after Stiles refused to tell them why an angel blade hadn’t killed him.  It had been completely unexpected, just a question, a refusal, and then suddenly Boyd was on the ground and lifeless.  Probably the worst part about it was actually seeing his soul die.  Even back in the visible dimension, or wherever Cas had pulled him so that people weren’t only souls, Stiles could still see a soft glowing outline.  When Boyd’s had flashed and disappeared with his death, the lack of that glow he had so recently learned about nearly had him throwing up in shear horror.

They had moved onto Erica next and so Stiles had betrayed Cas, told them that the angel was protecting him.  From there it had been frantic and the one good thing regarding his packmate was that Stiles had missed seeing the glow disappear from her.  Even though he had never actually seen her whole soul, after seeing everyone else with souls the absence had again struck him with blunt and horrifying truth.  He would never see or talk with Erica or Boyd ever again.  He would never be awake at unreasonable hours in the morning and be able to go downstairs to sit and let his mind go random places while Boyd sat beside him and read The Wheel of Time, nevermore would he be unceremoniously dragged from his room to be deposited in another one while Erica demanded his opinion on something under threat of friendly but painful death.  He would never see either of them again.

Overall, it just really, really sucked.  Was missing necessary parts of the pack without whom he had no idea what they’d do. 

“Stiles” A hand on his shoulder broke Stiles’ thoughts and he turned to look up at Cas in silent question.

“The pack wants you to join them in the living room.”  The angel said silently, the plea in his voice evidently for himself as well.

Distantly Stiles remembered having been so excited after becoming a nephilim and kissing Cas, unable to focus on anything, even the excitement from those happenings, all of his thoughts flitting about like fish.  Now he wondered if nephilim needed anchors like werewolves, because with his grief his thoughts were smooth.  Right when he didn’t want to think anymore.

Jumping up abruptly, Stiles ferociously attacked Castiel with a biting kiss, trying to take his off of this somehow, anyway possible. The angel didn’t reply in kind like Stiles wanted, instead taking control of the kiss and slowing it down, not letting the nephilim get lost in it. 

“Stiles, don’t” Those two sad words were all it took, and Stiles crumpled, crying noiselessly into Cas’ chest. 

He vaguely noticed that the angel had changed into clothes that he wore for sleeping, but it was unimportant as Cas let him cry, softly rubbing a hand up and down Stiles’ back and humming lightly.  Stiles didn’t know how long he stood there sobbing on the angel, but eventually he was able to breathe again through the tears, and he faintly recognized the song Cas was humming. 

“Is that Hey Jude?”  He asked wetly, twisting so that he could see his angel’s face. 

Cas paused in his noisemaking, but slowly nodded, explaining, “It holds meaning for Dean when he’s upset.”

Letting out a watery chuckle, Stiles nodded and moved just far enough away from Cas that the two of them would be able to make it to the other room.  Castiel looked at him fondly and Stiles resisted the urge to scrunch up his face in protest.  Yes he had just covered the angel in tears and snot, but he had needed it.

Stiles was pleased to see that the rest of the pack minus Dean had all taken over the floor again, and he debated about where to sleep as he took them in.  Evidently that was not his choice to make, as Cas prodded at Derek until he rolled onto his side and left a space between him and Scott that the angel made use of, pulling Stiles down with him.  After a bit more shuffling, they ended up in a pile that would have anyone looking in wondering what kind of sex orgy they were hosting.  Allison had somehow ended up on top of both Isaac and Scott, with the latter commandeering Stiles’ entire right side while he held desperate hands with Cas and their legs tangled together.  Last, but certainly not least, Derek was practically sprawled across the angel in a way that would’ve totally made Stiles jealous if he didn’t know that the Alpha already had Dean.

“Cas” Stiles whispered suddenly, turning to the angel who raised an eyebrow in mirror silent questioning.  “Can you make it so that I can see souls again?”

A faint flicker of a smile crossed Cas’ face, and he let go of Stiles hand momentarily to press it against his face.  A few seconds passed, and then he was a pillar of light below a sea green soul, on Stiles’ other side there was a mix of gold, red, and mint.  Closing his eyes as the light swirled red behind his eyelids, Stiles fell asleep. 


	20. But one time out of ten, everything is perfect for us all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last fully written chapter, there shall however be two more. I was going to write tomorrow's chapter this morning, but for some reason my body deciding to be terrible and really hurt for a couple of random hours. Rude. Anyways, it should be done by tomorrow, but no guarantees, unfortunately. Also, chapter after this one things will start being explained. Lots of explanations.

The next morning as Derek knocked on the motel door, he vaguely hoped that Dean would answer the door instead of his brother.  Normally the Alpha would just go right into any place his mate was sleeping, but seeing as the main threat was over, Sam might find that a good excuse to attack him.  Surprisingly Derek wasn’t angry or aggravated by this possibility, but rather unsure how he felt about that.  Oh sure, he knew how he _should_ feel, but mostly he was just numb.  Erica and Boyd were dead, his mate Turned, Cas pretty much completely _fallen_ , Sam’s anger just didn’t rate on the list. 

Since waking up sprawled on top of Castiel with one hand clutching Stiles’ hip, he had not wanted anything more than to have and be near his mate, just to make sure they were both still alive.  Of course that wasn’t _all_ he wanted, he also wanted to fuck his mate back in the apartment on the floor where he had slept while Cas and the rest of the pack lay nearby, but that sort of exhibitionism was generally frowned upon.  Not that it stemmed from a want for public sex, just as a reassurance that his pack was still there, that though they were missing two, the rest were alive.  It was actually probably the fluffiest reasoning behind wanting sex, to feel his mate beneath him while meeting other’s eyes just to be able to think, ‘I’m here, you’re here, we’re both here, we made it’.  Much like in Avatar where Nyteri and Jake had the whole ‘I see you’ thing going on.  Blame Stiles for that thought, when the two of them dated, the nephilim had brought out Derek’s geeky side with complete and utter enthusiasm.  So ya, he just wanted closeness.

Physical closeness at least, as he had enough mental closeness to last him a lifetime.  Not that that was a bad thing, in fact it had been the only reason he had let Dean go back to the motel instead of with him, but since pushing his wolf through the bond it had been huge, gaping and torn open, sparking with pain at the edges, but nice otherwise.  Derek could pinpoint exactly where Dean was, he knew everything Dean was feeling, knew he was asleep and unshifted, but that there was an annoying bedspring digging into his back.

Despite his irrational hope that it would somehow be his hunter who opened the door, it wasn’t.  Sam glared, “What do you want.”

A thought like ‘lovely punctuation’ flitted through Derek’s mind, but he answered tonelessly.  “Dean”

“He’s asleep” Just like his greeting, the statement sounded like an end to the non-preceding conversation, a dismissal.

Finally something like anger reached him and Derek snapped out, “I’m not sorry.  I’m not sorry for any of the marks I’ve left on Dean, or for what happened when we mated.   If the hellhound hadn’t made me go feral and knot him, we wouldn’t have become mates, so I don’t regret it one bit.  Say what you want, he’s mine, and I’m not giving him up.”

“And now that he’s Turned he’ll become one of your Betas?”  Sam asked, his face condescending but his tone surprisingly anger free in reaction. 

“He’ll stay as Alpha mate.” Derek replied, raising his chin by a minuscule amount.

“Even though he isn’t a werewolf.”  Sam prodded further

“He was human before” Derek countered, and about to say more on the topic when he felt his mate shift, a spark of pain coinciding with his awakening.

“Ya, what the fuck am I?”  Dean interrupted and both his brother and mate turned to see him sitting up from the bed, one hand rubbing his face as he watched them.

Sam looked at him and all Derek could do was shrug, “I’ve no idea, I thought we’d ask Cas.” 

“He awake yet?”  Dean inquired, pushing back the covers and standing up as he waved a hand, “Come on Sam, let him in.”

The hunter moved back obligingly and Derek entered, glancing at him suspiciously but moving past to peck Dean lightly on the lips in greeting before answering.  “I think I woke him up when I left.”

“Puppy pile?”  Dean asked gleefully, having taken to the name as soon as he heard Stiles say it. 

Derek wrinkled his nose to show his disapproval but nodded. 

“So we’ll call him?”  Sam asked, and Derek began to nod again before Dean shook his head.

“I can smell everything in here, and frankly, as I passed out before you got out of the shower, I smell like shit.  Me and Derek are having a shower, then we’ll call him.”  Dean grabbed Derek’s arm, grinning at the disgusted look his brother threw him. “Nothing you haven’t heard us doing before.”  At this Sam looked confused, and Dean took great pleasure in reminding him, “Before you met Derek while we were on the phone.  Granted, we weren’t doing as much as I’m planning now…”

“Shut up Dean!” Sam yelped, slapping his hands over his ears and glaring at Dean, though Derek could easily see the fondness beneath the disapproval.  “Far too much information, I’m going to get breakfast.”

Dean didn’t wait for him to leave, yanking Derek into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. 

“Come on, clothes off” He ordered, stripping out of his own clothes and checking the water pressure.  Grinning, he added, “Not that you don’t smell fantastic, ‘cause you really do, but I’m pretty sure you have blood in your hair, and I know not all of it’s yours”

Snorting, Derek complied, getting into the shower after Dean and running his hands over his mate’s skin.  There wasn’t a single open wound or bruise though Derek’s scars from before still stood out starkly.  It was almost weird to see Dean without marks of harm, as whenever he healed one another would appear either from hunts or Derek.  Grabbing Dean’s hips, he held his mate in place so that he could take him in.  The water running down his body accented every perfect line, and Derek couldn’t wait to get his mouth on him.  Another twinge and he paid more attention to their bond, ecstatic at the way he could feel Dean’s every emotion back at him, joy, pride, love, arousal, everything.

“We’re going to have to find new ways for my marks to stay” He murmured, digging his thumb into the triskelion. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure some out” Dean cheekily responded, and Derek couldn’t back down from the challenge, sent both with words and through feelings in the bond.

He had no idea what Dean’s healing factor was now, but he was quite willing to find out.  And if nothing stayed?  Oh well, they’d just have to go at it again later.  Spinning Dean around, the other reached out to catch himself on the wall, automatically spreading his legs.  Derek looked through the bottles in the shower for one that would work, amused to see that the new ones that must be Sam’s were all organic or nice ones, scented stuff.  Granted, Dean had changed quite a few of his toiletries after figuring out that some of the smells were irritating to Derek’s nose, but they weren’t too expensive or fancy.

“You know, I do actually need to shower, and it’d be nice if the hot water didn’t run out before then.”  Dean looked over his shoulder to prod impatiently, canting his hips and spreading his legs widen in clear invitation.

“If you don’t stop complaining, I’m using the ginger stuff” Derek held up the conditioner ‘with real ginger extract!’ threateningly.  When Dean looked confused, he smirked widely, “Oh, you don’t know what that does,”

There was a huge temptation to shove a bunch of the stuff up Dean’s ass and watch as he withered, especially now that he could easily heal from it and Derek would be able to feel it mirrored through the bond.  But no, Derek would have to wear a condom so he didn’t get any on his dick when he fucked Dean, and they didn’t exactly have any here.  “Later.  When I have an actual ginger root for you.” He promised, loving the wary feelings pulsing through the bond that were mixed with excitement at doing what Derek wanted and trust that he would never go far enough to break Dean.  He wouldn’t, it’d probably be a small ginger root, and he wouldn’t leave it in too long.

So he switched Sam’s conditioner for Dean’s, positioning himself to catch the spray of the shower on his back and squirting some out on his hand.  Opening up Dean’s cheeks with one hand, Derek thumbed at the dusky furl of Dean’s ass and the urgency returned as all he wanted was to sink into that tight heat.  Thrusting two fingers in as a start, Derek started to bite at Dean’s next, worrying the skin with his teeth.  His mate choked out a cry at the intrusion and pressed back, grinding down in a way that let Derek know he wanted this just as much. 

A wave of impatience rolled through the bond with more pain and Derek yanked his fingers out without ever having gotten up to three, positioning himself and then sinking in. 

“Derek” Dean breathed and they let out matching groans as he bottomed out. 

 He actually needed a moment to steady himself, pressing his forehead into Dean’s neck and panting.  They had had practically nothing in foreplay, but the wide open bond, painful thought it was, let him feel both Dean’s tightness around his cock and the way Dean felt it as it pressed into his ass, plus playback of both their emotions and desires.  It was freaking wonderful.

As soon as he caught his breath he pulled back before thrusting in again, fucking deeply into Dean.  Their combined urgency made him go faster as Dean rolled his hips back to meet him, and Derek let his claws sink into his mate’s hip for extra leverage.  There was a screeching cracking sound and Derek looked up, still pounding into Dean as he took in the way his mate was clawing at the wall.  Shards of tile were coming off, long scratches breaking through them as Dean scrabbled at it to hold himself up. 

Derek laughed breathlessly and then there was a weird pressure right above his groin that drew his gaze back down.  The urgency disappeared in a second and he froze completely, causing Dean to let out a high whine of protest, twisting around to snarl at him.  Derek could tell he had shifted into full Beta form, but this was just, what?

“What the fuck Derek?”  Dean pressed, and Derek looked up, meeting his three banded eyes. 

Tilting his head, he stared into his mate’s shifted face, noting that though his ears and teeth were pointed, the changes to his face structure were almost non-existent they were so minor.

Licking his lips, Derek felt a triangular shape slap against his hipbone in demand, and calmly informed his mate with much amusement, “Dean.  You have a tail.” 

Derek could tell when the words sank in by the way Dean looked down, staring at the black snakeskin band wrapping one complete time around Derek’s waist, and ending in a shape like those triangular Star Trek insignias, although miles sharper.  He just blinked for a few seconds and then the tail tightened before unraveling from around Derek.  The Alpha would’ve pulled back to allow Dean time to inspect his new appendage, but through the bond his hunter was promising a slow death if he removed himself from Dean’s ass. 

Rolling his eyes, Derek grabbed the tail and pulled it back around his waist, accidently yanking on in the process and gasping at the spike of pleasure that went through Dean at the rough treatment. 

“Fuck” Dean drew out the word, hissing, “Do that again”

Not wanting to deny his mate anything, Derek pulled on his tail, grabbing it near the base and restarting his pounding rhythm of fucking into Dean.  It was a little awkward with the tails base at the end of Dean’s tailbone, but with a bit of maneuvering Derek was able to hold the tail taut and fuck him at the same time.

Leaning forward Derek whispered in Dean’s ear, “It’s a pity that it’s so sharp, or you could fuck me as well.  Maybe later you can stretch me enough that we can get it in anyway, hold the end still while you fuck me with the rest”

The words made Dean groan heavily, the new limb lashing in Derek’s grip.  He really would’ve loved to thread Dean’s tail into his own ass, but while Derek would be able to handle it when his mate inevitably lost control and cut him, pain like that would be prime for a hell flashback in Dean.  That was one type of pain he never wanted his mate to go through.  Practically any pain that Derek didn’t inflict himself was unwanted, but that in particular.  Thinking about it, a ginger root might not be such a good idea after all…  They’d have to talk, first. 

A clawed hand reached around to grab Derek’s ass and press him further into Dean, and he groaned at the feel of the sharp blades cutting lightly into his skin.  He could feel himself nearing completion, and just as he had almost reached it, a brilliant thought presented itself to him in new light.  Dean couldn’t Turn again.  Derek’s fanged teeth sank into the place where Dean’s shoulder met his neck at the same time he tipped over into bliss. 

The bite triggered Dean’s own orgasm, and the two of them were stuck in a playback of pleasure as it crossed through their bond and back again, leaving them panting against the shower wall. 

Dean let out an inarticulate noise and his tail slapped against Derek’s back.  “Let go and get off, my legs can’t even hold my own weight right now.” 

Laughing slightly, Derek pulled out of Dean, blinking as he accidently stuck his face in the spray and smiling at his mate as the other turned around, still shifted and prodding at the bite on his neck. 

“That was fucking awesome, you biting me is so not going to be a one time thing.  Considering that, what the hell is up with werewolves and biting?”  Then he tilted his head in consideration, leaning back against the wall “Actually as we still haven’t figured out what I am that should be changed to werewolves and freaking turned thing.  That’s really fucking weird, I’m not human again, but I’m not looking for a cure or asking Sam to kill me.  Huh.”

It was only because Dean had already told him the story of being Turned into a vampire that Derek didn’t growl at the thought of someone killing his mate, but it was a close thing.  Dean wavered slightly where he was leaning and Derek mentally cursed as he remembered how much Turning took out of new creatures.  Yes, Dean’s Turning hadn’t been cause by a bite, but he was no longer human none the less. 

Acting on the desire to take care of his weary mate, Derek grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed some out, reaching up and massaging it into Dean’s hair.  His hunter’s mouth quirked up into a smile and he relaxed as he closed his eyes, letting Derek care for him. 

After he was finished with Dean he cleaned his own hair and grabbed a bar of soap to do a quick scrubbing of them both, all too aware of the changing temperature of the water.  The sound of the motel door opening caused Dean to turn and open his mouth to scent the air, relaxing slightly at the familiar smell of kin.  Unfortunately Sam’s arrival meant that they needed to get out, but by that time the water had gotten cold enough that it wasn’t exactly a hardship. 

Stumbling into fresh clothes that Derek hadn’t noticed him pick up, Dean forwent the shirt as Derek’s new bite was still sluggishly bleeding, having come from an Alpha it didn’t heal as quick and would just stain anything clean he put on.  There was an odd moment trying to get his jeans on, and eventually Dean let them just hang low beneath his tail.

“Ready?”  Derek asked, stopping with his hand on the door and ignoring another random pinch from the bond.

Dean nodded and they left the bathroom to find Sam determinedly looking at the table where he had set a sandwich bag and now picked it up again. 

“I got you guys breakfast, Derek, I didn’t know what you liked so I just got…” Sam trailed off again as he looked up and saw them, staring with his mouth half open.

“Look Sammy!  I have a tail!”  Dean exclaimed and Derek turned to take in the picture his mate made.

God he was gorgeous, absolutely stunning.  His pants rode low to show almost the full triskelion there, hips peppered with slowly healing claw marks, his anti-possession tattoo bloomed on his chest, thin rivulets of red streamed down from the deep bite Derek had left on his neck, and he held his tail tilted lightly down above his head like a scorpion.  To top it all off, his eyes _glowed_ with their new coloring, somehow managing to both shine from the white ring and collect darkness in the black one, the blue a happy medium.  He looked, and felt, really incredibly happy, fangs exposed in a full mouthed grin. 

 “Can’t shift back?”  The question was mostly confirmation, as he couldn’t quite tell if Dean had tried. 

“Nope” Dean popped the p, nonchalant as always though the happy glow stayed.

There was an awkward clearing of the throat from Sam, and Derek turned back to see the hunter staring at the bite proudly displayed on Dean’s neck.   His gaze turned to meet Derek’s and the tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold as the Alpha waited for the hunter to rage at him for harming his brother.  He hadn’t actually been thinking about how Sam was bound to see it when he bit Dean, but he supposed that was kind of the thing you didn’t want to do around your mate’s brother when he was already convinced you were abusing your mate.

Surprisingly instead of doing so, Sam took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before seeming to collect himself enough to speak.  “I called Cas on the drive back here, he phoned me to say he can’t fly, so he’ll meet us at the park by the apartment, I assume you two know where that is?”

The lack of hostile response confused Derek until he realized that Sam was choosing his battles, and the Alpha relaxed for the moment.  At least until the rest of the message sunk in.  Cas couldn’t fly?  Was there something wrong with his wings, or did he not have enough grace?

“Fuck” Dean hissed under his breath, but went with it all the same, biting his lip and then releasing it with another curse as his fangs sank through the skin.  Looking back up to Sam he added, “You’re leaving after?”

“Depending on what we find out.”  Sam responded, shrugging. 

Accepting this response because he knew it was out of valid concern for Dean, Derek settled back while the other two packed themselves up, shivering off another spike of pain.  For a while there was just silence, and then he remembered an important piece of information from the day previous.  “Dean, while on the way to get Stiles, Kali and Aiden kind of ran me and Cas off the road.  So the impala might be wrapped around a tree.”


	21. Well all's not well but I'm told that it'll all be quite nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so midterms this week. Holy crap, so much freaking stuff to do and memorize. I have more chapters to write, but I really don't know when I'm going to get time to do so, which sucks. I'm sorry all for this irregular posting schedule, but I promise I shall try to write whenever possible. I'm really not happy with this ending, it's being mean to me and not writing how I want it, so I hope it's okay. Umm, next chapter will have more Stiles/Cas, plus their conversation from the morning of this and last chapter. Anything else? I'm not quite sure, but I have to run, so enjoy?

“What?”  Dean yelped, dropping the bag he had just been packing and turning to stare at his mate in horror.

Derek arranged his face into an innocent expression and repeated, “The impala, it made friends with a tree.  It’s really not too bad though, I’m sure you’ll be able to fix it easily”

Everyone was completely still for a few moments while Dean stood there with his mouth gaping open, and then Sam and burst out laughing with the air of someone who had no idea what else to do. 

 

The way Derek had put it, Dean had been terrified that the impala would be beyond repair, but after cajoling his brother into driving the two of them up to the wreck, he had been pleasantly surprised to find that although the vehicle looked terrible, it still drove enough for them to move it up to Derek’s house.  By this he means they put it in neutral and pushed it the rest of the way there.  And by that he means that Derek and Sam did most of the work, as punishment for the former causing such harm to his lovely baby, and the latter for laughing at Dean’s plight in getting them there.  Both of them had wanted Dean to go to the park to meet up with Castiel about what Dean was first, and even though he wanted the two of them to be getting along, he wasn’t particularly happy about them setting aside their differences to try and get him to leave her outside any longer.  So destroying this newfound and momentary cooperation, it took several threats of blackmail and a phone call to Cas to get them to help him with his vehicle.  Cas thankfully enough had been quite accommodating to the belated timing, though Dean suspected that had more to do with Stiles’ voice murmuring in the background than it did with him rescuing his car. 

 Logistically Dean knew he should be more worried and upset over being Turned than over the damage done to his baby, but, it’s just, it was his _baby,_ his freaking impala.  That car was his home, history, literally the most important non-sentient thing in his life.  No jokes, he fucking _loved_ that car. 

Now on the topic of being Turned, no, Dean had no idea what the fuck he was or how it happened, what the side effects were, basically anything about it.  So yes, he should be freaking out over not being human anymore before his car, but fuck that, he wasn’t going to freak out until he could put a name to whatever he was freaking out about.  Actually come to think of it, if Dean was an as of yet undiscovered creature—which he thought he was—then he could name himself, like with the Jefferson Starships and the Khan Worm.  Vampire wraith shifters and that freaky worm thing that traveled via people’s ears.  Yuk.  Anyways, as soon as he figured what he was, he could come up with an awesome name.  Standing in front of a mirror had given him little inspiration, funky eyes, almost a mix between vampire fangs and Derek’s type of werewolf teeth—tipping more towards the latter—the fucking tail, pointier than usual ears, and claws.  Completely narcissistically he looked fucking awesome, but had no ideas on a name.

Dean knew at least that he was part werewolf, ‘cause that’s how the whole thing started with him taking Derek’s wolf, and could guess at the rest of his species from general observation.  Granted, he had never seen a demon with the forked tail he was sporting—other than certain true forms in hell, but those mostly varied from demon to demon, some preferring smoke, some with meat suits, and some as terrifying creatures completely defying all laws of physics—but that combined with the ring of black kind of had him thinking about being part, _that,_ too. 

The possibility of being part demon was probably what was freaking Dean out the most, and also why he was refusing to think about it until it was confirmed or denied.  Because if he started thinking about it, he’d start thinking about his time in hell that would’ve left enough marks for him to become a demon, tortured enough people to speed him on his way, he’d think about the many nightmares he’d had of himself with black eyes, and holy fuck he did not want to be a demon.  Just no.  So much no. 

“Dean?” His mate’s voice snapped him out of it and he turned to look at his mate in the backseat of Sam’s vehicle. 

A rush of warmth was sent through the bond, making them both flinch as it scrapped the raw sides, but Dean was grateful for it none the less. “I’m okay” He tested out a smile as he said it, trying to move away from such disturbing thoughts.

“Of course you are” Was the amused reply along with a light but concerned mental prod.

This turned his smile real, and he flashed a grin at Derek as the worrying thoughts dissipated and one hand unconsciously went to his neck where his Alpha’s bite had already healed over.  Being bitten had been extremely surprising, in both that it had happened, and just how much Dean liked it.  Also, how much he wanted to bite Derek, taste his blood and feel warm lifeblood sliding down his throat.  It wasn’t about the pain or power for Dean, so, oh, shit, he’s totally part vampire.  ‘Cause the fact of the matter was that while Dean was fantasizing about biting Derek for how his mate would taste, his mate liked hurting Dean during sex _for_ the power, he liked controlling the hunter and knowing that Dean would do anything for him.  That was another thing he loved about his mate.  Yes, Dean got roughed up, he emerged with scars, bloody and unable to walk, but Derek never did anything detrimental to him either mentally or playing with his emotions, anything that would really break him, which Derek totally could.  Ya, Sam thought their relationship was fucked up, but Derek knew exactly how to destroy him emotionally, and he never would.  ‘Cause big bad Alpha or not, he practically coddled Dean’s mental state, never pushing so far that the hunter would break.  Plus, he might actually let Dean drink from him.  Oh, eww, no, that’s gross.  Bad vampire thoughts.

“Oh, turn here, I think that’s Cas” Dean piped up as he noted the figure sitting on the side of a fountain a little ways off the road, glad to have answers in reach

He wasn’t wearing his customary trench coat but Dean would recognize his angel anywhere.  Concern however shot through him as they pulled into a parking spot close to where Cas sat and he got a better look at the angel.  There really wasn’t any better way to say it, he looked, human.  Not hopeless like he had after Van Nuys, or slightly harried like he had been over the events of the past few days, just, human. 

But as the little group got out of Sam’s car and approached the angel, he raised blue eyes that were just as celestial and all-knowing as ever.  The obvious proof of his wellness made Dean instantly relax, and he took a mental moment to wonder why he it had affected him so strongly.  Not that he wasn’t extremely concerned for his newly human friend—especially having seen hippie!Cas from Zachariah’s messed up future—he just didn’t think he would’ve normally been _that_ relieved.  A particularly strong twinge in the bond made him realize that Derek had had the same positive reaction and he sent his mate a confused look that went completely unnoticed. 

Mentally deciding where everyone would sit so they didn’t kill each other, Dean went to sit next to Cas but the angel stood instead, taking a step forward and completely ignoring all those pesky rules that governed personal space.

“Can you shift?” Was his opening line after a few moments of staring at the hunter, head slightly cocked to the side as he watched Dean.

Unconsciously but to a lesser extent Dean mirrored the head tilt, flicking his eyes to his brother before answering.  Sam had been acting uncomfortable around Dean from the time he walked out of the bathroom shifted until they moved the impala to Derek’s house and his extra features randomly disappeared.  Since becoming aware of his tail that particular action had been extremely weird.  All previous motion with the new limb had been involuntary and for some reason after Derek noticed it the thing had exploded with sensitivity, even the rubbing on his jeans feeling like sandpaper.  It had make Derek pulling on it feel freaking fantastic, but when it left with him shifting back, he had definitely noticed the difference, having instinctively adjusted his stance to accommodate, and not so instinctively had to adjust back.  Hopefully Sam was okay with the whole thing.

“Not on demand” He replied with a small head shake.

Cas nodded and turned to Derek, “As you gave Dean your wolf I’m assuming your bond is open enough for you to just have your wolf near the bond and he will shift. I need to be able to see the changed parts of his soul and right now I only have enough grace to see them when they’re on display physically.  Stiles is coming out later, but he doesn’t know enough about souls to be able to understand one like Dean has.”

Normally Dean might’ve had a problem with people talking about him as if he weren’t there, but the faint dejected tone at the reasoning brought only sympathy.  “Will you get any of your grace back?”

“Maybe” Cas murmured, eyes flickering down.

The weird feeling of teeth thinning and slighting, and what Dean now recognized as his tail appearing spread out and he realized that Derek had pushed him into shifting, easy at that.  As he twined his tail around his torso so it wouldn’t be visible and twitched at the weird feeling of doing so he wondered how the heck Derek had even known how to do such a thing so well.  It was kind of freaky, how Cas could tell Derek to do something with the bond and the werewolf would instantly do it exactly as it was supposed to be done.  Oh wait just one second, Dean paused, trying to follow what about that thought his mind had flagged.  Cas could tell Derek to do something and the werewolf would instantly do it.

“Son of bitch” Dean exclaimed, finally getting it. 

Cas made a face like Dean had interrupted him in his quest to stare intently at the hunter and he quieted, the desire to tilt his head back adding to his theory. 

“What is it?”  Sam asked, concerned and tensed in automatic reaction to what could be a threat.  Seriously, when they weren’t fighting over Derek, Sam was a fantastic brother.

“Cas is Derek’s Alpha.”  Dean informed him, smirking as his mate mirrored Cas’ disgruntled face.

Ever on the quest for knowledge about everything and anything, Sam also turned to Derek with an inquisitive look.  “How does that work?  You’re an Alpha” 

Derek shrugged, but as the angel wasn’t stepping in to save him, he explained.  “There are Alpha’s born into packs, their instincts just demand that they submit to the superior Alpha.  Once they’re old enough for those instincts to lessen, they’ve lived with them long enough to know that while there may be wolves under them, they aren’t the leading Alpha.  It’s basically the same thing” Derek shifted in place uncomfortably and sending resentment at Dean as he spoke.  “I’m the Alpha of my pack, but Cas is my Alpha when he acts on it.”

“But Cas isn’t an Alpha, would all angel’s be seen as Alpha?” Sam prodded further, the gears in his head practically audible as they turned. 

“He, threatened me shortly after we first met, but also protected me and since he’s so important to Dean it just, happened.”  Derek sounded like he didn’t actually know and was just grasping at straws that tried to make sense. “And I don’t know.  I think Samandriel commanded me to do some things, but I haven’t really met any other angels.”

Sam looked like he was going into complete interrogation mode, but luckily—or not, depending on who you asked—Cas made a noise that Dean couldn’t tell what it meant and they all snapped back to focusing on the angel. 

“What is it?  What am I?” Dean asked, completely attentive and terrified for Cas’ answer. 

“You’re, a combination of a few different creatures.”  Cas began, confirming at least the first part of what Dean thought.  “Your soul has characteristics of a werewolf, a demon, a vampire, and an angel.  ” 

And bombshell dropped, despite it being expected.  Holy fuck.  Demon.  Vampire.  Werewolf.  Angel?

“Explain?”  Dean requested hopefully.  This was one thing he wanted to know absolutely everything about.  It was his species now after all, and even another sharp slice from the bond couldn’t stop him from finding out everything there was to know.  Damn, he hoped that healed soon. 

When Cas continued he spoke slowly, looking like he was choosing his words carefully.  “Each time a soul comes into intimate contact with a supernatural creature, or is Turned and then cured, there’s a residue left behind.  With your soul, I’m guessing that the buildup of residue just recently broke a certain amount and became physically visible.  First off, each species influences you in relation to how much residue was left behind.  Because of this your vampire and angel characteristics are small, only showing the former in the narrowing of your shifted teeth and the later in your eyes. The demonic and werewolf characteristics will be the more prominent ones.  There will probably be more changes from each, for example you may start craving blood.  Derek should be able to handle what changes come though.”  At this Cas turned to Derek, missing the way Dean flinched guiltily at the suggestion of craving blood “If you can’t, let me know.”

“Okay, so the werewolf part from Derek, the vampire left over from when Dean was Turned, the demon from hell,” Sam simplified, reiterating what they knew and going full on research mode.  “But where did the whole angelic part come from and what would’ve built up enough residue to set this all off?”

“Actually there are two angels whose grace has influenced Dean.”  Cas answered, his blue gaze once again boring into Dean’s, a confused look on his face.  “One is me, from when I healed your soul after hell and other times I’ve been in contact with it, but I don’t know who the other angel is, I don’t recognize their grace other than to say I’ve been in contact with them before. 

The second part of Sam’s question took longer for him to come up with an answer.  “I would assume that while each of the effects on your soul were harmless and inactive on their own, your taking of Derek’s wolf may have pushed you over the side from human to creature.  None of it showing on its own, but all together you’re like, this” The last word he accented with a nod and no disgust, which was extremely calming. 

The fact that Dean was part demon was horrifying, for both the demon aspect of it, and the small piece of him that welcomed it.  If he had demonic characteristics he could better protect Derek, and again then hadn’t it been that part of him that had promised his mate that he would tear apart anyone who hurt him?  Come to think of it, that feeling of utter fury had touched Dean quite a few times since he got out of hell, around Sam, Cas, and Derek, and lots in purgatory.  Shit.  Dean _was_ part demon.  He just hadn’t really noticed it.

“What about Azriel?”  Derek spoke up after a period of Dean mentally freaking out and little zings of pain touching the bond.

Azriel?  Oh right, that creepy angel of death.  What about her?  Oh, second angel.  Considering Dean had never been possessed by an angel, that might make sense.  After all, she’s the only angel other than Cas who he’d had contact with in recent times.

“Azriel?”  Cas drew the name out, then touched Dean’s face and leaned in to stare at his eyes.  “You made a deal with her to get to me, so it’s not unfeasible that she may have done something.  She always had her own plans”

“Wait, what?  You made a deal with who?”  Sam asked, panic clear in his voice.

Dean waved him off, “Not a demon deal, weird fucking thing though. Cas, could you somehow use angel radio to get a hold of her or something?”

   Cas looked disgruntled at the automatic mocking lit Dean had placed on saying angel radio, and the hunter winced, eye flicking away.  His shirt moved and even if he tried he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from wrapping his tail around Cas’ arm in apology.

“You’re very inconspicuous.”  Derek informed him and Dean shot his mate a withering glare that was ruined by amusement from the bond.

Knowing that yes, tails weren’t exactly common sights to see when walking through the park and that anyone who looked closer would also notice the other shifts from human he was currently displaying, Dean attempted to pry his tail off of Cas’ arm. 

The rest of his family provided no help, so Dean decided—as he managed to cut himself on the sharp end of his own tail—that he earned the right to give them an order.  “Fuck off all of you, and I mean that literally in Cas and Sam’s case.  Last time we summoned Azriel we got her ice cream, so that’s what you two are going to get while Derek and me wait here.  Cas, you can pick up Stiles on the way ‘cause you said he’d be joining us.”

“Ice cream?”  Sam asked incredulously.

“Apparently the angel of death likes ice cream” Derek replied, half shrugging.

Dean let out a noise of triumph as he finally managed to get his tail away from Cas, one that quickly changed to horror when the blasted limb went after Sam next.  Luckily his brother stepped out of the way before Dean could get a death grip on him, and he forced his tail to wrap around his own arm instead.    

“Not a word” He said threateningly to the world at large, tucking his jacket in so that the tail wasn’t visible. 

Again, Sam just laughed.


	22. You're the icing on the cake on the table at my wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *IMPORTANT* The first POV part of this chapter is Castiel from the morning two chapters ago, it should've been part of last chapter. The second part is still Castiel's POV, and it's right after last chapter. The third POV change is normal again.
> 
> One more chapter after this. I'm hoping to clear everything up, but I'm not sure if I'll get everything. Let me know what I'm missing. Also timeline wise for posting, I won't get the next chapter done till, probably wednesday? I don't know, busyish weekend :(

Castiel woke the next morning to two walls of heat on both sides and partially covering him.  It took a few moments for the haze in his mind to clear, and he was able to discern that the walls of heat were not actually walls of heat, but a werewolf and a nephilim, which was far more reasonable than walls would be.  It was however, disconcerting to not know what was happening the instant he woke and frankly alarming to have the need for sleep rather than as an indulgence.  But even when he had been comforting Stiles the night before he had been painfully aware of how tired he was.  And angels didn’t get tired. 

A quiet huff alerted Castiel to what had woke him, and he took great pains in controlling his heartbeat and breathing, depressingly pleased to find that he could still do such a thing.  Derek, the one who had made the noise, shifted on Castiel’s chest and it took a few moments before the angel—because what else was he, if not an angel—could tell that he was doing something on his phone, the soft glow of the screen lightly reddening the insides of Castiel’s eyelids.  After a few seconds the glow winked out and Derek moved away, silence replaced by the shuffling of papers and a clinking sound.  The cold in his absence was most unpleasant.  Luckily the werewolf soon lay back again, his head resting on the angel’s chest as he let out a soft noise of triumph.  Scratching noises belayed him writing something down and Castiel recalled a time when he would’ve been able to see through his vessel’s eyelids rather than having to listen and guess as to what was happening. 

 There was a little while after the Alpha had finished writing in which he just lay there and Castiel found himself able to enjoy the close proximity of both Derek and Stiles on the other side.  The only people missing at the moment were Dean and Sam.  While the angel didn’t spend as much time with the younger Winchester as he did the older, he had still grown quite fond of him, despite their rocky start with Castiel believing the other to be little more than a blood drinking abomination.  Now that two more people had joined Castiel’s little group of human family, with the possibility of more, he really wanted them all together.  Especially now that he was no longer a full angel.  Last time he had had Dean, Sam, and Bobby, and this time, if what he thought was going to happen actually happened, he would have Dean, Derek and Stiles.  So spending some time with Sam before the hunter left wouldn’t be amiss.   

The werewolf on top of him moved again, this time standing up with a finality that Castiel knew meant he wasn’t coming back.  The angel really wanted to grab Derek’s arm and pull him back down for more of this relaxing sleep, but he contented himself with curling closer to Stiles instead, still not opening his eyes or giving much indication to his awareness.  While he enjoyed spending time with Derek, little could compare to close proximity with his nephilim.  Said nephilim muttered something in his sleep and shifted around, winding a leg between Castiel’s and throwing an arm over him before settling down again. 

They had already had a few close calls in which Castiel had needed his grace to heal Stiles, so now that he had lost so much of his own he was determined to teach his nephilim everything that both their species could do.  He debated over going to heaven to find someone who knew more about nephilim, but quickly threw out that option on account of fear of Stiles’ discovery.  Though not for fear of Naomi finding him.  Samandriel had said that the angel tablet was destroyed, and Castiel knew enough about the tablets to know that such a thing would require a major sacrifice of grace.  Not to mention that he had felt an angel die some ways away, he could definitely make a guess of who said angel had been.  Though why she’d listened to him about the tablet, he truly had no idea.  It was, odd.

The sound of a door opening made Castiel stiffen, but the footsteps went outside instead of in and he recognized Derek leaving.  Glad that he wouldn’t have to greet anyone yet—though he knew he would eventually—Castiel snaked one of his arms underneath Stiles so he was holding him back, the nephilim automatically moving until they were tangled together to his unconscious contentment.  Letting out a soft sigh, Castiel decided to go back to sleep. 

 

~*~(Read top note for time change)

 

Just as he had thought would happen, Castiel had been called to help with figuring out what Dean was.  Less like he thought would happen, he figured out that he couldn’t fly.  The alarming sensation of spreading his wings in preparation for flight and finding them not only achy and far too heavy, but also actively trying to fly and ending up biting back a scream at how much pain the attempt caused him was incredibly, unnerving, to say the least.  Terrifying to poke around at saying the most. 

Having Dean, Sam, and Derek come to him instead was worlds better until Dean brought up the topic of Castiel being Derek’s Alpha.  Thankfully he had not been forced to talk, and as such didn’t need to reveal any of his worries on how that would work now that Castiel was so much less than an angel.  He was content with his position and if he had needed any more incentive to want to be Derek’s Alpha, the fact that by default he would also be Dean’s would definitely be enough.  As it was he was almost positive that he’d still be such, but there was always that nagging doubt that said he wasn’t.  Like humans say, he’d cross that street when they came to it.  Road.  Path?

 “Sam, what is the saying about crossing streets when one comes to them?”  Castiel asked on that train of thought as the two of them got closer to passing the apartment on the way to the convenience store for ice cream.  He didn’t think that Dean actually thought Azriel would insist on ice cream, but more that he wanted a moment alone with his mate.

“Cross that bridge when you come to it?”  Sam responded, looking at the angel curiously.  

Ah, a little bit off then.  He could tell Sam wanted to ask why he had been thinking of it, so asked his own question instead “Would you mind if I went and got Stiles now?”

After Sam shook his head no, they stopped and Castiel went upstairs to get his nephilim, informing the rest of the pack when it was obvious they wanted to come but weren’t ready, that they could join them in the park in about half an hour.   They agreed, and Castiel and Stiles left the apartment, the latter yawning and rubbing at his eyes as he complained about getting up so early. 

“First I woke up when you left and took all your comfortableness with you, and then I woke up when Scott tripped over me on the way to the bathroom, which, seriously, Scott is the most uncoordinated werewolf I’ve ever met when he’s tired or confused.  You’ve no idea, it’s terrible.  One day a hunter is going to dress up in a sexy nurse costume with rabbit ears, and is going to attack him and he won’t know what to do about it and get himself shot.”  Stiles stopped his rant to consider this, scrunching up his face in disgust “Oh eww, I was totally thinking about a girl hunter when I said that, like Allison or something, but then my brain provided me with a picture of a hairy old saggy bellied dude with a miniskirt, and I think my mind’s trying to shrivel up and away from that image.  Not that all male hunters are gross, I mean Dean and Sam totally aren’t, though do you think they could pull off miniskirts?  I totally could, right?  I would look better than them in a miniskirt.  And make up and all, oh!  Eyeliner.  Holy shit you would look good with eyeliner, come to think of it Dean and Sam would also totally look good with eyeliner, Derek looks _fantastic_ with it, I bribed him into letting me put some on, and he looks just, wow.  Seriously, there are few words for how unbelievably hot Derek is with eyeliner.”  Stiles was just saying as they got within hearing distance of Sam and the hunter looked extremely confused, wide eyes darting to Stiles in disturbed question.  Not that it stopped the nephilim from continuing talking.

“Derek is gorgeous, but you would also look fantastic in eyeliner, actually, you know what?  You probably would look as good as I do dressed up like that.  Far better than most hunters in a sexy nurse costume.  If I blow you, will you let me put eyeliner and makeup on your face?”  Sam turned an alarming shade of red at this, and Stiles blinked, whipping his head around to look at Castiel and say, “Whoa, I am really tired, I totally didn’t mean that.  Or no, I totally did mean that, but we should pretend I never said it aloud, unless of course, you’d do it, ‘cause I would definitely blow you for that opportunity.  Except would that be too much?  We’ve made out already, so I don’t think so and would be completely happy to go far past that, but you’re an angel and all, and I really don’t think that I can stop my thoughts from coming out of my mouth, which kind of sucks.  Seriously, when I’m this tired and wound up for absolutely no reason, don’t take anything I say seriously.  Well, most anything”

While Castiel didn’t mind listening to Stiles’ stream of consciousness now that he couldn’t just read his mind to hear it, Sam looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel or die of shear mortification.  Castiel was actually curious about the current topic as he had never thought of a man wearing the decorative make up women wore, but he supposed he could ask Stiles later when Sam wasn’t around.  So, following on this decision, Castiel stepped closer to Stiles, claiming his lips in a kiss.   

If he had ever thought that this would be better for Sam to be exposed to rather than Stiles’ every thought, he was proven wrong after he broke the slightly longer than he initially meant it to be kiss and found that Sam had turned away and was determinedly not looking anywhere near them.  Not that he particularly noticed Sam’s behaviour, too distracted by the dazed look in Stiles’ eyes and the unique taste of his mouth. 

“We’re going to get ice cream for Azriel, you can tell me about the makeup later.” Castiel informed his nephilim and he got a broad grin in response.

“Awesome” Stiles pressed his lips against Castiel’s one more time and stepped back, seemingly hesitating for a second before taking the angel’s hand in his own.  “Let’s be off then”

The short walk to the corner store was not done in silence, but Stiles had moved onto the safer topic of blueberries, from there to socks, throughout the time they were buying ice cream the topic changed to the forestry industry, and then finally, as they were approaching the park with a quart of Moose Tracks ice cream, onto asking just who exactly they were getting this ice cream for. 

“Azriel is the angel of death.  Apparently she likes ice cream.”  Castiel told him, frowning at the way Stiles paled slightly.

“Death?  Oh that’s cheery, like, the whole grim reaper?  Scythe and black cloak?” Stiles asked, attempting to wring his hangs together but being prevented by the way he was still holding Castiel’s and both of them refused to let go.

“No, those are just human view on how Death looks, he’s actually more human, though still terrifying.”  Sam answered when it was obvious Castiel had no idea what the whole grim reaper thing was.  He knew about reapers, but why would they be specifically grim?  The hunter continued with another question before the angel could ask this.  “How does it work to have an angel of death as well as the horseman?”

“Azriel is only in charge of angels who die.” Castiel paused consideringly after this, “She might also be in charge of demons too, but I can’t confirm that.”

While this didn’t appear to satisfy either one of them, they had reached Dean and Derek who had stopped their own conversation at the same time the arrivals stopped theirs. 

“Great, ice cream?”  Dean clapped his hands together, still shifted.  He appeared to have given up on making his tail obey, as it was tightly wrapped around Derek’s arm, the end digging into his skin but not cutting. 

Sam, who had been the one Stiles volunteered to carry said ice cream, brandished it with a nod and addressed Castiel.  “So what now?  You just call her?”

Having given this thought but still slightly unsure as to whether or not it would work, he answered with a shrug.  “I’ll see if she can hear me through,” At this he paused, glaring without heat at Dean, “Angel radio”

The hunter grinned widely and innocently in response, not taking any responsibility for the ridiculous but somehow apt name.  Castiel took a step closer to Stiles before sinking back into his mind, uncertain of how Azriel would react to a nephilim.  While he didn’t think she would try and harm him, there was still a small possibility that she would.  The voices of the Host on angel radio had been cut down a very large amount since Castiel killed so many of them, but now it was quieter because he was so far cut off from those who still lived.  Taking a calming breath and sweeping his mind softly against his bond with his nephilim to ground him, he sent out a request of the angel of death’s name, repeating it to gain her attention and then sending an image of Dean shifted and hoping it got through. 

When Castiel opened his eyes he found that nothing had changed or appeared, but as Stiles opened his mouth to question, someone else spoke over him.  “A demonized angel, a fallen angel, a nephilim, a hunter, a werewolf, and an as of yet unnamed creature all met in a park.  I swear there’s more to this joke, but I really can’t think of it.”

Despite calling and expecting her to show up, it was unnerving the lack of warning they had to Azriel appearing.  Castiel only had a small amount more decorum than the rest of them as they whipped around to see the angel of death who had appeared in their midst.  His sister was watching Dean curiously, but soon turned to look at Castiel, one side of her mouth quirking up in a grin.  Though the others save Stiles would only notice if they saw her shadow, Azriel had two pairs of her wings out and relaxed, one pair black-crimson and dragonic and the other an exact match of a White Tern’s.

“Hey little bro, bet you didn’t expect Naomi to listen to you.” Azriel said cheerfully and Castiel frowned.

“How do you know what I said to her?”  No one else had been present the last time Naomi had pulled Castiel back to heaven, he’s sure he would’ve noticed.

Azriel spread her hands in supposed innocence, “What _ever_ are you talking about? I’ve no idea what you said to her.  She was just on your side during the lovely civil war heaven got up to.”

Castiel flinched back, not wanting to be reminded of such a thing.  Thankfully Dean took up airspace before the angel’s mind could dwell too far.  Not as thankfully, Dean did it in the insulting way he had when dealing with more powerful creatures. 

“Stop fucking around with Cas, we want to know how much of this” Here he gestured to himself, “Is your fault” 

Azriel’s wings flexed and Castiel was torn between staying near Stiles and stepping closer to his charge.  Outwardly she only laughed, practically prancing as she stepped closer to Dean.  Derek was the one to block her from fully approaching, stepping slightly in front of Dean and growling lowly. 

Again the angel surprised Castiel, this time as she stopped in front of the Alpha, still grinning.  “Personally, I totally agree with Castiel about the house, ‘cause you’re going to have lots of little puppies with Dean, and they shouldn’t be raised in a place that smells like smoke and blood.  When you’re at your house, don’t you wish you were home?” 

 

~*~

 

Stiles wrinkled his nose in irritation at that last comment, knowing how touchy Derek was on that whole subject.  He totally would’ve spoken up about it and the lack of space Azriel left between them, but he was still trying to get over the huge double pair of wings protruding from the angel’s back.  Two pairs of them, one kind of like what he imagined Castiel’s actual ones to look like and not just their shadows, but the other pair was terrifying and dragon like, so Stiles was keeping his mouth shut.  Unless she looked like she was actually going to smite someone, then he’ll blab his face off, count on it.

“Hold up just one second, last time you said random things like that they actually happened, I just want it known here that I am a man, and will be very upset if I have puppies.”  Dean apparently took up the torch of talking, and Stiles wondered what Azriel had said before that would have him worrying about a quip like that.  ‘Cause it was just a quip, right?

“Pack house, puppies.”  Azriel gave him a total non-answer, still smiling like an escaped mental patient. 

“Forgoing the puppies, what is Dean?”  Sam was the one to return them to sanity, if that’s what this could be called.

“Io Rauko.”  The angel turned to Stiles as she said so, one eyebrow raising at the way Castiel crept even closer to him. 

While normally Stiles might have protested the protectiveness, this angel was far too scary for him to stand up to on his own.  Though Io Rauko?  Just what? 

“Don’t tell me you’re not fluent in Elvish, I want you to know I stole that from J. R. R. Tolkien, who was a really awesome dude.”  Azriel nodded seriously, looking reminiscent before snapping back to the present.  “Void Demon, or I suppose you could say Void Angel, or, actually really, any of Dean’s creatures with a Void prefix.  Or hey, Void Creature.  I rather like that one even despite it not being in a prettier and deader language than English.”

“You knew him?  Were you there when he wrote Lord of The Rings?  ‘Cause that would be so cool, those books are fantastic!”  Okay, so not so much on the whole keeping his mouth shut deal.  “That’s really weird but really cool, oh wait, nope, off topic.  Stop avoiding the subject!  What’s with the names?”

Rather than get upset and smite him for the blatant order, Azriel let out a soft huff of laughter as she turned back to Dean and finally got down to explaining some things.  Though only things they hadn’t asked of course, because why make life easy?  “Well Dean, you needn’t worry about the full moon, but your already freakishly high levels of protectiveness will have fun in the thermosphere, additionally if your anchor ever dies you should have premeditated plans for someone to put you down, ‘cause I know you have unfortunate and probably reasonable morals against killing everything in sight.” 

“What.”  Dean stated, stepping up beside Derek so he could more fully face Azriel.  Thinking on it, a one word answer probably would’ve been Stiles’ reaction too. 

“Well the part of you that’s still human will keep you in check, but if your anchor, Derek, is ever killed, that part will have to deal with not only your broken bond and a lack of anchor, but also the four other species that make up, you, becoming feral.”  Azriel expanded, her face completely open as she watched the hunter.  Err, the, Io Rauko? Void Creature?  “Seriously now, that would not be very good.  Can you imagine a feral demonic angelic werewolf with vampiric leanings out on the street with nothing to keep you sane?  Not good, not good at all.  Oh hey, you know what, someone could just call me to come collect you ‘cause you’re mine in the end anyways.  But then again Derek’ll go with you to void, so I’ll probably be there anyways to pick him up.  Well, that problem dealt with, I’ll just kill you myself when Derek dies.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam once again intervened when Azriel trailed off into a thoughtful silence. 

The angel shook her head like she was disrupting her musings, turning to look at the younger hunter in surprise as if she’d forgotten he was there.  “Oh, the deal Dean made with me, I made an allowance for Derek to go with him, but it’s not like I’ll know the exact moment he dies, I do actually do do stuff with my life you know.  Okay, that’s a complete lie, it’s not like anything I do is so importantly time consuming that it can’t spare the five minutes it might take to pick them both up.”

“So you made him like this?”  Stiles asked, cottoning onto the way that even though she acted like she wasn’t sure what she was doing, her wings stayed relaxed. 

He had no idea why that meant she knew what she was doing, but something told him that if she was actually just figuring out things now, her wings would be running through being both tensed and fidgeting in indecision. 

This time when she turned to look at him he didn’t flinch, and her wide smile disappeared beneath a knowing look.  “Not just anyone can go to void you know, only angels, and those like angels.  You and Castiel will automatically be mine after your deaths, and I may or may not have changed a little something in Dean’s biology to make him just a little bit more angelic, enough that he’ll end up in void rather than the other boring afterlives.  Furthermore, I also may or may not have wanted him to become a creature rather than a human—not that there’s anything wrong with humans—so I _might_  have helped the process along.” 

“Fuck, so you Turned me into this?”  Dean asked, a thread of anger in his voice.

“Of course not, Castiel was right you know.  You’ve been Turned a few different times, just not enough to make a difference until the buildup tipped the scales away from humanity.  Try and tell me you’d want to become human again, hmm?  You might not have complete control yet, but you’ve given yourself over to Derek enough that he can be your control up until you find your own.  Not to mention it’ll spice up your already interesting sex life when you start craving blood, and as you’re mates, his in particular.”  Azriel’s eyes narrowed suddenly and now Stiles desperately wanted to step back despite the fact that she wasn’t even looking at him. 

He barely saw her move, but then she was directly in front of Dean, one hand on the side of his face.  Derek snarled and yanked his mate back, but not before a burst of light had appeared at the contact. 

Derek and Dean gasped in union and the mental patient grin was back. “Don’t worry, I only healed your bond from where it was torn open.  So tell me that you want to be human Dean.  I stole that choice from you, do you want it back?”

“It’s not the fucking same thing, I know you know why I’m angry.”  Dean hissed, baring his teeth at her.  “You had no right to do that whether you think it’s good for me or not.  We don’t cater to your whims”

Though the sky didn’t change, the area around them seemed to darken and twist, a freezing breeze picking up in the middle of summer.  Next to Dean Derek shifted in reaction and Stiles felt Castiel tense up, finally letting go of his hand.  He instantly missed the warmth, but tensed himself, absently wishing he had brought his baseball bat as he watched her wings come up into an irritated position

“Of course I know why you’re angry, but you should know that while I’m fond of you, that doesn’t mean I care.  I thought you’d learned angels weren’t fluffy beings to perch on your shoulder when Castiel threatened to throw you back into hell.” Azriel smirked, her voice low and unconcerned, but somehow shutting them all up and thinning the air around them until it was hard to breathe.  “You had questions, I’ve answered what I want to answer.  You’re a Void Creature Dean, and unless I have reason to speak with you again, I’ll see you and your mate again when you die.  I know you’ll figure the rest out on your own.”

For a second Stiles thought she’d just disappear, but instead she turned to Castiel and this time he wanted to step in-between the two angels, settling for grabbing _his_ angel’s hand and closing the space that had opened up between them.

The action seemed almost useless as the second Azriel faced her brother everything was back to the way it was before and her wings were relaxed, completely content with her back turned to Dean and Derek.  “I may not agree with all your choices, but I don’t like seeing my siblings falling.  You’ll lose and strain your grace, but unlike if you were to totally fall, to a certain extent you’ll always get it back.” 

Then she looked at Sam, “You kill Derek, you’re killing Dean.  I would threaten you about hurting him, but I know that’s enough to get you to stop.  Let the fuck go of your hang ups Sam, Dean loves you, he’s smart, and he forgave Derek ages ago.”  Lastly it appeared to be Stiles’ turn, who raised his chin challengingly when she turned to him.  To his surprise, he received another of the actual smiles instead of threats about his species.  “You’ll be welcome in void.  I know you won’t waste what my brother’s done for you.”

And with that, because all theatrical villains—was that the right word for Azriel?—needed a dramatic exit, she disappeared.  With a grin on her face, there one second, gone the next.  Glancing around at those gathered and momentarily ignoring the questioning shouts of the pack spilling out of the apartment to the park, Stiles noticed that the ice cream was gone.


	23. Even if things get heavy we'll all float on, alright already we'll all float on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, finished. Lots of notes though. First, I'm pretty sure that this is going to be the last big story in this series, like, 83% sure. For oneshots, there may be a few more just to add in things that weren't done here, or if anyone has any suggestions for things they want to see? I know I say that often, but seriously people, suggestions are great, especially if I haven't included something you think should've been. On that note, thank you everyone who's stuck with me throughout this whole story and series, through the random posting times at the end and huge notes that had little important in them. It's been a blast, and I love you all.  
> I think I'm going to do a Stestiel story next, 'cause this one almost turned into one and I have a huge plot and everything. Will be a while until it comes out, but if anyone's interested and will still be interested in a couple of months, you should read it. Wow, I just advertised an unwritten story. Somewhere out there some part of my mind is curling in shame...  
> Well, once again, thank you all, you've been brilliant, and I hope you have amazing lives filled with lots of awesomeness, varying to suit your awesome needs. And so, the end.

After everything with Azriel was said and done, Dean was slightly upset that his species had already been—at least partially—named.  He was also reeling from one of the strangest interactions he’d ever had, but that was secondary. Or, at any rate, he was making it secondary so he didn’t have to dwell, analyze, and freak the fuck out.  Helpful to this goal, the pack was coming out of the apartment and over through the park to ask who the woman who had disappeared into thin air without wings had been.  At least it had sounded like she left without wings, the terrifying shadow Dean had noticed out of the corner of his eye said otherwise, but the lack of noise was still on the pro side of the list. 

Really, Dean had no idea what to think of Azriel.  Lie.  He thought she was fucking annoying and should be trapped in a ring of holy oil until she coughed up answers that made some fucking sense, but that wasn’t what he was referring to.  She was the reason Dean was no longer human, but she had healed his bond with Derek.  She spoke about them as if she owned Dean, Derek, Cas and Stiles, but answered some of the questions he needed to know and wouldn’t have thought to ask.  All in all, she was just confusing.  Which was a big part of the reason he couldn’t answer any questions the pack had about what the heck had just happened.

For some other reason that Dean wasn’t privy to, Stiles was the one to step up and explain things to Scott—who was the loudest questioner—while the remainder of the pack cuddled up into the empty spaces in their little circle.  Isaac squished in-between Dean and Derek, and the void creature (Demon? Werewolf?) was about to start a conversation with him when Sam grabbed his brother’s arm, nodding in the general direction of his car.  Agreeing that they should probably talk even though he didn’t particularly want to, Dean complied and they walked out of hearing distance, leaning back on Sam’s vehicle to talk. 

As he pressed against the metal he noticed the lack of tail and a quick check of his hand showed no claws.  This whole random shifting thing was going to be a big problem, though that explained why Dean had been able to leave the group.  For some reason his tail always wrapped itself around people he loved, snaking out and being a nuisance of itself.  He could kind of feel it and move it, but the thing seemed to run on some mental instincts that Dean had yet to work out how to exercise veto power over.  There was so much he hadn’t figured out yet about his shift, and he knew it would only get worse as time went on.  One thing that was awesome—though he wouldn’t have thought to ask about it ‘til the moon was high in the sky—was the reassurance that the full moon wouldn’t affect him.  The relief was mostly left behind when he then took into account the whole blood cravings, but those weren’t exactly bad yet.  Not like the all-consuming hunger of a full vampire, rather a steadily pulsing desire in the back of his mind or when he looked at Derek’s gorgeous throat.  That would also probably change, but at least he would have time to talk to his mate about it, ‘cause really thinking about it?  A blowjob from a part-vampire was practically a recipe for disaster. 

“Are you going to stay here?  For more than just the summer?”  Sam asked

Dean blinked, having expected almost every question other than that and slightly thrown off from the train of thought he had been on with his vampiric tendencies. 

Still, he answered the best he could.  “I think so, I mean, I’m sure Derek wants to, and I kind of do.  I think some of the pack is staying here too, plus they go to universities within driving distances.  Why?”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face with a long sigh before answering.  “Listen Dean, as much as I’d like to pretend differently, I’m not going to be able to help you on this one.  Don’t get me wrong, I want to, I _really_ want to help you learn to control your shift, and figure out how to deal when you’re not human, and see what each influences you get from your different creatures, but I think at this point I’d just get in the way.  ‘Cause I still think you’re making a mistake with trusting Derek so easily and letting him get away with so much, and he’s the one who’s going to do the most to get you through this.”

 Surprised, Dean fought the urge to stand there and just blink in confusion.  One day Sam’s practically itching to tear Derek’s head off, and the next he’s acknowledging the guy’s importance?  “What changed then?”

“Well for one, Azriel made it clear that you’re going to need him to figure out how to be a, Void Creature or whatever,” Sam began, then shrugged and met Dean’s eyes.  “And when you were first Turned, when we fighting those demon-wolves, nothing could stop you from going to him.  You didn’t care who saw you, who you had to go through, you just refused to leave him.  He was your only thought, and I don't want to lose you as my brother more than I already have.” 

That whole time was kind of fuzzy, but that part Dean could remember, the pain his mate had felt and the overwhelming need to protect and help.  He honestly wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done other than kill a bunch of things, get covered in blood and end up curled up beside his mate protecting his most important packmates.  Guilt rushed through him as he realized that in his shoddy memory Sam barely factored in except to note, ‘ _not pack’_.

“So I’m leaving.”  Sam continued after a few moments of silence and Dean jerked his head up in surprise

“What, right now?”  He asked, taken off guard.  It was one thing for his brother to cave to the fact that Dean wasn’t getting rid of Derek, but it was another thing completely for him to actually go off and leave Dean in his mate’s admittedly capable hands.

“I came here to both help you and to get rid of the demons, the demons are gone, and I can’t help you anymore.  I’m fine with the pack, but I don’t want to be around Derek after finding out what he did to you.  I don’t know how you’ve forgiven him, but I don’t think I can, in fact I'm pretty sure I can't.”  Sam shrugged again, “Summed up, Castiel said I was too focused on my anger to care if you were happy, and he was right. Thinking on that, though I still want Derek dead, I want you to be happy more. And if I’m spending this whole time angry at him while he's trying to teach you, that’s not going to help you.”

Stunned, Dean blurted out, “I love him.  I forgave him because I love him. You’re still my brother Sammy and one of the three most important people in my life, but…” He trailed off without adding, _I don’t know if you’re still number one.  Even if I knew that for certain, I can’t order you guys anymore, it’s no longer Sammy, Cas, everyone else, Derek’s there, and he’s my mate.  Mine._

Whatever he meant, Sam seemed to get what he was saying, smiling lowly. “Ya, I figured.” Seeming to pull himself up from the sadly serious pose he had taken, Sam bumped Dean’s shoulder with his own, “Now can we braid our hair?  Mine first.”

Dean laughed, ducking slightly as he was reminded of another reason he loved his little brother.  He really hated emotional times, but Sam knew him well enough to stop before he got so cornered and backed up that he just shut off. 

Still chuckling he agreed, “Alright, you want a French braid? ‘Cause if you do, you’re shit out of luck, I’ve no idea what that even is.”

Sam just grinned, giving no worded response.  They stood there for a little while longer before Dean decided to dip momentarily back into the edges of moment territory.  “I think Derek’s going to tear down the house so we can rebuild a new one, he’s been wanting to for a while now.  When it’s finished you have to come visit.”  Sam nodded in agreement and Dean ended the threatening moment.  “Want me to tell Cas to come over?  I don’t know, I almost think you should leave without saying goodbye to him as payback for all the times he’s disappeared.”

“That would be rude.”  Sam chastised, then proceeded to wave at the angel when he looked over. 

Cas tilted his head and Dean wondered if he had figured out the function of a wave.  But he nodded, turning to Stiles and saying something before heading over to the Winchesters. 

“You’re leaving.” Cas stated as he drew near.

“Ya,” To Dean’s surprise Sam actually looked awkward in preparation for whatever he was about to say next.  “But before I go, I have to ask, what’s up with you and Stiles?”

Wait, what?  There was a Cas and Stiles?  Since when?

The angel’s head tilted further but he answered, “He’s my nephilim.”

“In just what manner is he your nephilim?”  Dean pressed, curious about the hint of a blush on Sam’s cheeks.  What had he seen?

Seriously, if Cas’ head tilted any further it was going to fall off, and then Dean would never find out exactly what they were talking about. 

Sam was the one who ended up answering that.  “You guys were looking pretty, enthusiastic, earlier.” 

Cas went to speak but Dean interrupted him with a laugh and a clap on the shoulder, “You’re finally getting some cloud seeding done!  Now if I had just known back at the brothel that you swung the other way…” _I totally would’ve fucked you myself._

But that was another life, and wasn’t what had happened.  “How’d that happen?’

“How do these things usually happen Dean?”  Cas asked sarcastically and Dean grinned without repentance.

“Sarcasm and cloud seeding!  Our little angel is growing up” Dean cooed, receiving a murderous glare for his troubles.  While Cas could be fucking terrifying, this time it was ruined by the red blush covering his cheeks and the way he adorably shuffled in place. 

“Be nice” Sam reprimanded, as always the support of the group “I think that’s really great Cas”

The angel looked at him warily, but seemed to take his statement at face value, nodding “Thank you Sam.”

Still amused by the thought of Cas and Stiles together, Dean wondered momentarily on the ramifications of Cas’ vessel being so much older than Stiles.  That would be a problem for random people on the outside, but who gave a fuck, Jimmy was probably around the same age as Dean, and Stiles was only a number of years younger than Derek.  Cas was probably as old as the Earth, and Stiles as a nephilim didn’t seem to be that much younger, though his memories were.

“It’s great” Dean decided to try and reassure Cas in case the angel thought he was only making fun of him. 

The side of the angel’s mouth quirked up in a smile and they stood there in comfortable silence until Isaac made a loud noise across the park and Sam slapped his hands against his vehicle, exclaiming, “Alright, I’m off then.”

Ah well, it had to have ended eventually.  “See you man,” Dean said, hugging his brother tightly in farewell. 

“Goodbye Sam” Cas’ serious voice made it sound like a last goodbye and Dean had to stop himself from laughing in amusement or shuddering with foreboding.

The angel received a hug as well and then Sam got in the car, nodding at Dean before he shut the door, “Let me know when you’ve finished the house, maybe you could meet Amelia.”

“Sounds good bitch.”  Dean agreed with a smirk

“Jerk” Came the reply with a grin, and then his brother was once again gone.  Surprisingly, this time it wasn’t so bad. 

 

~*~

 

Watching Dean and Cas come back to the group, Stiles decided to intercept his angel on the way.  Dean let him go with a wink and a grin that Stiles really didn’t want to know about.  From the way Cas blushed however, perhaps he should be a little more aware. 

“So Sam’s gone?”  Stiles asked, making small talk until he could figure out what he wanted to say.

“Yes” Was the monotone answer.

“You do realize you’re ruining my plans for building up with small talk.”  Stiles pouted, awkwardly running his hand through his hair.

“Oh, right.  How’s the weather?”  Monotone changed to extremely serious and Stiles bust out laughing, looking around at the sky. 

“Well, it looks pretty nice, barely a cloud in sight, though I’ve heard there’s a chance of rain later tonight.”  He mused, following with the same serious tone.

Cas nodded, grinning, “Was that enough build up then?”

“Bored already?  I could probably make enough small talk that you’d forget what the original conversation was going to be” Stiles totally didn’t exaggerate, rambling on was an almost fool proof way of getting out of heavy conversation.  But no, now this was important.  “I’m pretty sure Dean and Derek are staying, I heard Dean tell Isaac he’d probably find somewhere to be a mechanic, and I know Derek’ll want to stay, so you’re staying too right?” 

Cas dropped the mock serious act and looked considering, finally admitting, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do now that I’m almost fallen.  Azriel put a link on my grace that will always return me to a certain strength, but I don’t know how much that is or whether I’ll be able to fly again.  I need to teach you how to use your grace so you don’t almost kill yourself again, but I think overall, for a long while at least, I’d like to stay here.”  He paused, “You’ll be going back to university after the summer though?”

“Ya, but I’m transferring to the closer one that most of the rest of the pack is going to, I decided that back before I came home for the summer.”  Stiles answered, doing a fair job of resisting the urge to jump for joy.  He did honestly want to be closer to home this coming year, for both his dad and the pack, and bringing him closer to Cas was an added bonus.  One last big thing, then the rest could wait—including what Azriel had said about Cas threatening to throw Dean back into hell, ‘cause just what?  Shit like that needed to be talked about and made sure it was far in the past. “Also, what, are we?  Like, what are we doing?”

Cas pondered the question for a few moments.  “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask that question.”  Then he smiled, “I enjoy spending time with you, listening to you, you’re mine.”

“Awesome.  All of that back to you, and I think we should date.”  Stiles stated with a matching happy look.  He didn’t really know what they’d be, boyfriends sounded too young for what they’d been through, lovers was incorrect as they hadn’t slept together yet, partners sounded like they’d been together for a long time…

“We could just be together?  An angel and a nephilim?” The angel suggested with a head tilt.

Hmm, an angel and a nephilim, with possessive pronouns depending on who was saying it.  Yes, that could work.  “I like it.”

“Good” Cas offered his hand and Stiles took it as they made their way toward the group.

 “Stiles!  Derek and Dean are staying!”  Scott exclaimed enthusiastically. 

“They’d better, do you have any how many plans have been made with them staying?”  Stiles responded, wondering if they had just decided that for good now.  It had pretty much been a given it his mind, and if they had tried to leave he may have needed chains covered in wolfsbane.  And whatever would work to keep Dean from running. “Oh hey Dean, have you decided what you are yet?  Void Creature?  Void Demon? Angel?  Vampire?  Werewolf?”

“No idea, definitely nothing in Elvish though.”  Dean responded easily “I’ve never wanted to be anything other than human, so I can’t pick favorites either.”

“Void Vampire,” Allison teased, “So you started craving blood yet?”

“First time I was turned I wanted blood almost right after, it’s been almost a day and I haven’t bitten anyone.”  Dean smiled sweetly as he answered, “Of course not”

The werewolves of the group stilled nervously until Scott spoke up, “You know in the second part of that answer your heartbeat skipped.”

This time Dean’s grin was nothing but predatory, fleetingly showing fangs that were _just_ different enough from a werewolf’s to count.  “No need to worry, _that_ part of this game I’ve been through before.”

Surprisingly it was Cas who chuckled at that, and Stiles assumed that there was some sort of joke revolving around Dean being Turned into a vampire.  The rest of the pack evidently got this too and joined in with easy laughter.  Stiles was going to conform with laughter until he noticed the look Dean and Cas exchanged.  It was one of those looks that said, ‘thanks for backing me up, even though you totally weren’t there the last time I became an insane blood drinking creature who wanted to feast on innocent victims’.  Okay, maybe he was reading too much into it, but still, Stiles made a mental note to ask Cas about that later.  As hot as Dean was, he didn’t think it would be very fun to find him snacking on the human pack members.  Or, actually, Azriel had said he’d crave Derek’s blood, so would that mean he could go after the puppies too?

“When are we starting work on the house?”  Isaac asked, changing the subject.

Derek shuffled his foot, belaying his uncertainty in a way he never would’ve done when they had first become a pack.  “I think I’m going to knock the whole thing down and build a new one.  We’ll still use the plans and all, I just think we need a clean slate to start out on.” 

“So does that mean we get to knock the rest down?  Or are you going to get an actual company?” Leave it to Scott to stop a tense moment from happening before it had even started, in a way that could totally be offensive but just came out as innocent. 

“I think we should still do it.  Some things I’ll need to bring people in on, but it’ll be the pack house, so most of it I want us to build.” Derek answered, and Stiles could tell how important this collaboration was to their Alpha by the nervous note to his tone

So he answered the unspoken request, “And then we get to move in.  This’ going to be fantastic, though with all that’s happened I don’t think that’ll be ‘til next year, which is too bad ‘cause the apartment’s getting a little small, especially since you two need to move in, but it’s definitely something to look forward to.”

 Fleetingly in that sentence he remembered how excited Erica had been to design so much of the house and how Boyd had had a hand in the library, and Stiles was forced to stop his ramble before it really got started, casting his mind elsewhere so he didn’t get sad and disturb the others.  Warmth poured through him along with a squeeze of his hand and Stile quirked a thankful smile at Castiel, bumping his shoulder into the angel’s.  He hadn’t yet figured out how to manipulate their bond which was irritating, but he’d needle away at Cas until he was taught.  From the protectiveness the angel had shown while Azriel was there and the closeness now, he doubted much prodding would be needed. 

Laughter from Derek and Isaac brought Stiles’ attention back to the group and he looked around at them, a soft smile on his face.  Scott, Allison, and Isaac were grinning and hanging off each other, Isaac on the side talking with Derek and Dean over something or other that was making the wolves laugh and the void creature blush.  Meanwhile Scott and Allison were immersed in a conversation over how many room’s the three of them would have, an argument that they’d been following since the very first rough designs of the house were done, ranging from each having their own to just caving and having one.  To Derek’s other side Cas stood with a grin on his face, listening to the conversations being had but content without joining in with any of them.  Stiles put more of his weight on his angel, letting his head rest to the side on Castiel’s shoulder as he looked at his pack. 

So far this summer had been messed up, full of fear, blood and death, but they were still a pack, they had somehow survived.  And, he thought as Cas released his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulder, while they had lost two of their family and would miss them dearly, they may have come out of things a little better than before.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, all titles are song names from Modest Mouse and the chapter titles are lyrics.


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